


Howling Blue Murder

by Attasee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Wolves, Dead People, Detective Stiles, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mutilation, Serial Killers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homicide Detective Stiles Stilinski has a reputation for dealing with the macabre. The more horrific the scene the more  people turn to him to investigate, only this time its in his home town of Beacon Hills.</p><p>A mutilated body is found in an old psychiatric hospital. Totally dismembered the body is unrecognizable and one of the worst cases Stiles has investigated but that's not all. Something else is going on. Something strange. Something inhuman. </p><p>For the first time ever in his career Stiles needs help and with the help of his friends and an unhelpful Professor of Mythology and Folklore going by the name of Derek Hale he needs to work out if what he has found is real and what that will mean for him and his home town.  </p><p>If he is lucky might get some too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theater Number Three

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily influence by Homicide Hunter and The First 48 this is my attempt at a murder mystery. It's not going to be too heavy although there will be some descriptions of mutilation and violence throughout it. 
> 
> I aim to update every few days.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

The smell of death surrounded them. Seeping through every cracked pane of glass and rotting corridor it threatened to overwhelm the two men stood at, what would have been, the entrance to the derelict hospital.

“Fucking hell,” Detective Lieutenant Stiles Stillinski said with a croak. “I take it it’s a bad one.”

The man stood next to Stiles nodded but didn’t answer. Wearing a pale, sickly, expression Stiles sensed Detective Lahey was more than ready to throw up.

“Dude, if you’re gonna do it, do it over there so not to contaminate the crime scene,” Stiles said indicating a spot near the edge of forest that looked out of the way of the crime scene guys and the beginnings of a fingertip search of the hospital grounds.

Isaac looked over to where Stiles was pointing then shook his head. “I’ve got to get used to it," he replied quietly. As a new member of homicide, Isaac was right, but even with all Stiles' experience he could admit that this one smelt pretty horrific.

“Some kids found the body in the operating theater lay on one of the gurneys according to initial reports."

“Not good.”

“Reports say it’s a fucking mess.”

Isaac paused before answering. “Do they think that’s the kill site?”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. When I got the call the message was a body had been found at the Asylum and it looked right up my alley.” Stiles replied remembering the call from his Dad earlier that evening. His reputation for dealing with the strange and macabre was apparently threatening to precede him - the more gruesome the better – even when his Dad was the reporting Officer.

In fact, it was even more so when his dad was involved.

In fact come to think of it where was the old guy? Stiles was fairly sure he'd heard his voice when he'd arrived on scene.

“You okay to go in?” he said quickly scanning the area for a pale coloured uniform and finding nothing. 

Isaac nodded sharply. The anxiety was rolling off him in waves and Stiles placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

“I know you are dude. You got any Vick’s Vapour on you though? If not I always carry some – hazard of the job and all that.” Without waiting for an answer Stiles reached inside his jacket pulling out a small green tub handing it to Isaac. “Here, rub this shit under your nose. It blocks out the worst of it.”

When the two of them where fully suited up – the crime scene technicians insisted they should wear blue shoe covers, masks and gloves – Stiles and Isaac finally stepped through the front door of the building and began carefully following the line of officers who stood stoically at intervals holding torches to light the way.

Taking their time, rubble crunched under their feet as they walked deeper into the hospital. Jesus what had happened to this place? When he had been younger the building had still been intact and water tight, now it was a mess.

 “The theater is in the middle of the building,” Stiles suddenly announced louder than was necessary. 

“Okay. If we get lost we can just follow the smell eh?”

_Yeah._

Stiles sighed into the paper mask and didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit to his new partner that he knew the Beacon Hills Asylum later to be known as the Beacon Hills Psychiatric Hospital like the back of his hand, but knew he would need to at some point. Every twist and turn they took was as familiar to him as those in his own apartment. He knew the windowless theaters – if you could them that, because whatever had gone on in those rooms definitely didn’t involve a patients tonsil’s being removed – were located in the centre with other treatment rooms, whilst the wards all jutted out at angles, so from above, the building looked like a simple cross.

Even so the place still felt like rabbit warren. “This place should have been bulldozed years ago,” he said dodging another pile of plaster rubble. Stiles stared at the random bush that had taken root on the top of it, evidence enough the place was damp and festering.

“You know it well?”

Stiles sighed at the question. "I grew up here. Well not in here, because that would have been fucking terrible you know? Plus the place was closed when I was a kid, but I grew up in Beacon Hills yeah.”

“Really?” Isaac sounded surprised.

“Yep, my Dad is the outgoing local Sheriff ' _three more months Stiles!'_ So he keeps reminding me. My brother from another mother is the local vet, and another of my school friends is probably going to be the forensic pathologist we are about to meet.”

“Dr Martin?”

“Yeah, she’s gonna shit a brick when she sees me."

Giving a quick nod to the officer stood at the entrance to Theater number 3 Stiles indicated that Isaac was with him and stepped inside.

“Holy shit.”

Even under the artificial lights set up by the forensic teams Stiles could see the room was almost completely destroyed. If he remembered rightly the tiled walls had been intact the last time he and Scott had visited. But now they were bare and corroding away, as was the flooring and the paintwork on all the cupboards. In fact, the only thing that looked intact was the metal gurney with the remains of a body lying on top of it.

“Double holy shit,” he whispered under his breath trying not to breathe as he did so. The rancid smell had reached the back of his throat and was fighting its way through the barrier of Vicks he had slathered under his nose.  

“Long time no see Stiles,” a familiar voice said to his left. Stiles recognised it straight away. "I thought they’d call you.”

Smiling, Stiles turned to where the voice had come from, “Yeah well my grim reputation proceeds me apparently. My Dad’s last hoorah before he retires. Anyway, what we got?”

Following Lydia! Stiles made his way over to the gurney. As he did, he threw a thumb in Isaac’s direction, “Detective Isaac Lahey, meet Dr Lydia Martin, Forensic Pathologist extraordinaire and the only person alive who can kick my arse at calculus.”

Leaving the two to nod politely to one another Stiles closed his eyes then rocked his head from side to side to clear it and shut down his senses.

One.

Two.

Three.

He counted the numbers as he twisted his head slowly. It was an old trick but an effective one and somehow allowed him to focus on the scene sat a meter away from him.

And oh boy it was bad. Real bad. Stiles could now see the body had been mutilated from the head to groin with what looked like one precision cut in a familiar Y shape along the empty torso. This was in addition to what looked like a severe head trauma and partial removal of skull.

“The incisions look medical,” Stiles said moving in closer. The smell now was sickening but he didn't miss a beat.

“That’s because they are Officer Stilinski but they are not like anything I’ve seen before.” Having said her hello’s Lydia was now apparently stood next to him.

“Really?”

“Yep. The knife work looks clean and tidy. Loosely I’d say whoever did it knew what they were doing. There is bruising to what’s left of the neck, jaw and mouth and facial area, plus from what I can see the victim has been heavily restrained and part of his skull, brain and four teeth removed.”

_Crap._

“You think all this…?” he asked Lydia waving his hand over the empty cavity and the head trauma, “took place before or after death?”

Lydia grimaced, then nodded. “Off the record because I need to do a proper autopsy… some of it before. But don’t quote me in your report just yet.”

_Double Crap._

Looking up, Stiles searched for his partner, “You okay?” he asked.

Isaac replied with a sharp nod before quickly shooting a look across at Lydia. “You start to ignore the smell if you stop breathing don’t you?”

Chuckling, Stiles made his way down the gurney towards where the victim’s legs should have been. Christ on a bike. It was a shock to see but two bloody stumps were now the only things that remained. The whole thing was a fucking mess and yet… he quickly scanned the room. “Isaac can you find out from the local PD if we’ve located the victims missing limbs anywhere?” Something was niggling Stiles that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Yes boss.”

Stiles waited for Isaac to leave the room before he spoke. “He’s fresh meat Lydia. And by fresh I mean no.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s a good detective.”

“And yet they made _you_ his boss.”

Stiles straightened up with a groan before he answered, his back growing weary of bending over crimes scenes. “You know I am, promoted last year. Lieutenant Stilinski, Homicide Division, at your service,” he replied with a stiff bow.

Lydia smiled. At least when he'd first told her she hadn’t laughed out loud like some of his so-called friends when he had told them. His promotion was something he had worked hard for. He was a lead investigator at the age of 28 and had a 96% solution rate.

No one in the state could touch him.

“Anyway back to our victim. ID anyone?”

This time a crime scene technician answered. “No driver’s license or any form of ID. No pockets, nothing so far in here. Blood splatter is minimal meaning this isn’t the kill site.”

Looking around Stiles had expected half as much. Although theater and it contents were rotting and decaying away they both held no obvious signs of trauma or evidence that any of the dismemberment that had taken place there.

It defiantly wasn’t the kill site; of that, Stiles was 100% sure.

But where was?

As he stepped away from the body, Stiles made another sweep of the room. _Fuck._ No windows meant the body was hidden from the outside, plus, rabbit warren type layout of the hospital meant from his own experience whoever placed the body here, knew the location well. “Time of death?” he asked the room suddenly.

If he could get a handle on time of death then maybe he would catch a lead.

It was Lydia that answered. “With the levels of decay, body temperature, conditions, three days I’d say. But I know for sure when I get him back to the morgue and run some blood work.”

Great.

Three days.

Stiles took one last look at the body then turned to the blue out of town uniform stood at the entrance to the theater. “Remind me who found it?”

The officer answered formally. “Three kids, they’ve been interviewed, their parents are with them.”

“They okay?”

“Shook up, scared. They thought it was a mannequin at first.”

Stiles shook his head. Poor buggers. Stiles imagined they had been sneaking in here to simply investigate the place just like he and Scott had done all those years go.

Suddenly Isaac’s voice cut through the silence, the sound of his footsteps quickly filling the room. “Boss we found body parts,” he announced taking a deep breath. “And it’s not good.”

“All together?”

“The legs?” Isaac nodded his head like he wasn’t sure. “Erm yes Sir... but there’s something else though. There’s graffiti all over the walls, black swirls, circles. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It looks fresh, maybe a couple of days old but I’m not expert. I think you better take a look.”

Chatter suddenly filled the room as Stiles stepped back indicating with a finger to two crime scene technicians to follow him to the additional dump site. The discovery of the legs could be another lead. They had to have been placed elsewhere for a reason.

Stiles wanted to pat Isaac on the back in recognition. “You did good Lahey,” he told the young detective as he followed the man’s suited back down the corridor.

Isaac shook his head suddenly pausing to stop as he did so. “Not sure you’re going to say that when you see it boss.”

“No?” Now Stiles was intrigued.

“No.”

“How come?”

“The legs Sir? They have claws.”

 

 

   


	2. Ny Tree Cassyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens....

“Claws?”

“Yes Sir.” Isaac answered Stiles as he exited the operating theater. “But there’s also something else.”

Following behind, Stiles attempted to keep pace with the taller detective. “So you say, the graffiti on the walls.” Because what could possibly be weirder than claws?

Isaac paused, shaking his head. “It’s not just the graffiti or the claws.”

“Well obviously,” Stiles replied sarcastically. Because again, it wouldn’t be would be? “Shall we just get in there so I can see for myself?”

Not waiting for an answer Stiles indicated with his hand for the four of them to move.

Claws? Really?

Was that even possible?

Following Isaac the group made their way deeper into the hospital. Walking along the corridors Stiles noticed that the further they walked the better condition the building was in. It was obvious the hospital was structurally sound but in this section parts of it looked untouched by the elements. Maybe it was better protected? Or maybe people didn’t venture this far inside. Whatever… neither of those things could hide the overwhelming feeling of oppression the place seemed omit.

After what seemed like forever they reached a wild open space that once had probably doubled as a reception area.

“Is this where the body parts where found? In here?” Stiles said suddenly. An uneasy feeling was settling in his gut and he wanted to punch himself in the arm for not recognizing the route they had taken.

The body parts had been dumped here? In the wing that housed South Ward?

_Christ._

Stiles’ body rocked with even more unease.  

South Ward had been notorious during the hospital’s ‘heyday’, the stories about the place still legendary even now. A legend Stiles could probably back up, by the amount of research on the place he and Scott had done and how obsessed they had been about it at one point. The ward had housed (in a totally clichéd way) the worst of the worst and no one ever got out, ever. Sitting two stories high it contained the isolation rooms, padded cells, locked metal doors and scary looking ‘treatment’ rooms. For Stiles this place was the stuff of nightmares. Well, if he was honest, the whole place was, but this area, with it metal bars and padded walls, was the worst.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered eyeing up the familiar large iron doors that separated the area off from the rest of the hospital. Painted white with a sign still screwed to it insisting only authorized personnel could pass that point, it still looked as fresh as it had all those years ago. In fact the only thing that looked different was one of the doors was pulled wide open.

Something that never happened…

And didn’t seeing that fact bring back a whole load of memories. He could still remember trying to force the door open all those years ago. In the end both he and Scott assumed the doors had been left heavily bolted closed but apparently they'd had been wrong.

Not if body parts had been recently dumped there anyway.

“Where the doors open when they found the body?” He inquired as they reached the ward doors.   

“According to the first and only officer on the scene, yes.” _First and only – that didn’t bode well._

“Is that officer still in the here?”

Isaac confirmed with a head shake. “I left him to come and get you and he said he would wait for you. I think he knows you, because he called you _the boy_.”

_Great._

Stiles sighed.

_His dad was in there._

Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside any nervous tension that was building up and forced his body to walk through the open door. At least when Stiles had sneaked in the building all those years ago he had had Scott to hold on too, now he had no one. Judging by the expressions the other three guys with him Stiles suspected none of them would take too kindly to him flipping out and screaming like a girl.

“You okay Sir?” One of them asked.

Stiles forced back a nervous laugh, his lips pursing in the damp acrid air which was becoming staler with every step they took. “Yeah… this place just gives me the heebee geebees. In fact guys?” He said turning to the two crime scene officers and not Isaac, “do you want to wait in the reception area out there for us so we can have a quick look alone?” There was no point in freaking the guys out if it was as fucked up as his partner stated it was.

Both men nodded in quick agreement. 

Leaving the CSI’s behind Stiles itched his way along the corridor ripping off his mask in frustration as he did so. Even with all his bravado this ‘unknown’ element of his job still scared him. He absolutely loved what he did, love it, of that there was no doubt. He lived for it, but recently it seemed every crime scene he attended had a higher risk element attached - gangs, guns, and shoot outs where the norm. He’d even fired his weapon twice in the last three months, something he hated doing.

It seemed that for every murdered sixteen year old kid there was another kid the same age being arrested a few days later and Stiles was growing weary of it all. He didn’t sleep much. Or eat. He worked to many hours.

Knowing that his dad was currently stood in a room with Isaac’s weird body parts and graffiti though was really fucking with his head though. Rationally, he knew his dad was okay but something told him whatever they found in here was going to push his boundaries to their limits.

Head down Stiles trudged his way along the stale smelling ward corridor. Again it was good shape but most of the doors they passed were closed and the ones that where open, he ignored.

“Down here,” he heard his Dad shout. “I’m in last bedroom on the right.”

Not replying, Stiles rounded the bedroom doorway.

“Holy shit!” he gasped. One step into the room and he felt like he’d been hit with a ten tonne wrecking ball “Is this for real?”

“It’s oppressive isn’t it?” He heard Isaac say and Stiles turned to face him. It looked like the room wasn’t having the same effect on him but then the guy had already been here once.

What concerned Stiles more was the fact his dad was stood casually right in the centre of it all.

“Dad, do you think..?” he said cautiously. Stiles desperately wanted him out of there as soon as was humanly possible.

“Son? Is this the sort of shit you deal with every day?” his dad replied, looking like he wasn’t moving an itch. Instead he was pointing casually at another metal gurney hand on his firearm. “Because this right here lad? Is a whole clusterfuck of fucked up.”

Not responding Stiles grunted under his breathe. To hear his Dad swearing meant the situation was really bad. He never swore, not even the time when Stiles had almost set the living room on fire aged thirteen.

The strange thing was Stiles never really admitted to his father extent of the cases he dealt with. One man’s weird was another man’s intriguing, with Stiles falling into the latter category. Phone conversations between them usually revolved around Stiles simply stating he had closed another case and asking about the weather in Beacon Hills. No investigation details where ever discussed, no cases reviewed.

This time it was different though; this was up front and personal and right on Beacon Hills door step.

This time, Stiles had nowhere to hide.

“See what I mean Sir?” it was Isaac that finally broke the silence. “This isn’t a normal dump site.”

_Damn right it wasn’t._

Composing himself Stiles began to slowly circle the room eyeing up the graffiti eyeing up the graffiti. Isaac had been right about the wall art; it looked fresh and clean and filled all four walls.

“It’s a triskelion, or a series of them - which probably makes it a Triskele,” he stated suddenly leaning in closer to get a better look. The paintwork was immaculate, the lines clean and sharp, not what Stiles expected at all. “It’s a pattern found on Celtic pottery, flags and in architecture, quite mythical really. What the hell it’s doing on the wall here is beyond me though. These ones look fresh. They are also very good. Whoever drew these?” he said with a slight pause, “knew what they were doing and took their time.”

“Stiles son, how do you even know stuff like that?”

Stiles shrugged slowly, his gaze slowly lifted to meet his fathers. For the first time he noticed John Stilinski’s face looked tired and worn out, his dad was getting too old for this shit, thank god he was retiring.

“There are TV programmes about this sort of stuff on late at night,” Stiles answered.

John shook his head. “Son, you need to sleep more.”

_I know._

“Sorry to interrupt Sir but like I said, *this* isn’t even half of it.” Following Isaac’s pointed finger Stiles realized the mural had had him so distracted he hadn’t yet taken in the contents of the gurney.

“Is that… are they?” Stiles looked towards the top of the metal surface unable to comprehend what he was seeing - because what the fuck? He could see the gurney had been positioned purposely against the external wall of the room so the narrow end butted up against the surprisingly well preserved plaster and the ends of the painted triskelion touched the raised edges of the piece of equipment.

It was the contents of the gurney that caught his attention the most though. Scanning the metal surface his eyes attempted work out what exactly he was looking at.

“There are three,” he said finally. “Three. Legs.”

“All male,” he heard his Dad say from behind.  “One has a tattoo. The others are mark free. All in good condition.”

“Jesus Christ. Are they..?” Stiles stared closer at the macabre display.

Yes, they were.

The limbs were joined together by way of a crude form of needlework and positioned in what Stiles would describe later to Scott as, on the hour, twenty past and twenty too. However, it was the ends of the legs that worried Stiles most though where the feet where.

Isaac was right, growing where there should have been human toenails where claws.

Wolf claws.

Holy shit.

This was…

“I don’t want anyone else in here,” Stiles announced suddenly to the room, the repercussions of the scene he refused to process just yet. “Isaac go get Dr. Martin, tell her to come alone, take the two CSI’s back with you. No one but us is to enter this place.”

“Are you sure son, Lydia’s a good MD but this? This is something else, she's gonna freak out.”

Stiles decided to wait for Isaac to leave the room before he answered his father. “I trust her,” he said without looking up.

Claws…

John shook his head. “With this?”

“With this and you.”

John huffed like he didn’t believe what Stiles was saying. “And you trust your new partner with this - us - too?” he said with a shake of his head.

“For some reason yes.”

“Well kid, it’s your case. You know best.”

Stiles reluctantly took a deep breathe. “About stuff like this I do Dad yes,” he huffed. It was probably time to address it. Not that he wanted too but there was only so long he knew he could hide. “My job deals with the worst of the worst. I work in a city run by gangs and lead the investigations the other detectives won’t. The bodies in the bags murder last year? Me. The house where they found all those bodies in the garden? Me. _This_ is what I do. _This_ right here is the reason why you called me in.”

“Christ Stiles. I called you in because… You never said…”

“I never say, because I’m good at what I do and I don’t want you dragged into my fucked up world.”

“I’m not that innocent Stiles!” John shouted his expression wore a mixture of concern and frustration. “I’ve worked for the police department since I was nineteen.”

“I know… Dad I know what I am doing. I promise.”

Sparing a quick glance back towards the repeated triskelion wall design, Stiles moved closer to the metal gurney. For another five minutes he inspected the three limbs. Grabbing his note pad he detailed the skin surface, position and any other details that seemed to jump out at him. The legs were male, cut at the thigh and definitely stitched together with what looked like fishing wire.

“Oh my god!” The screeched echoed around the room.

Lydia.

Stiles had hoped he’d a little more time to gird his loins before his childhood friend entered the room but obviously not.

“Is that a triskele?”

Stiles wasn’t surprised. He knew if anyone would recognize the pattern if would be her.

“And what the hell is that on the gurney?”

“A loose representation of the wall decoration I think.”

Lydia moved in closer. “This is… are they..?”

Stiles nodded his head and pointed at the crude stitching. “That will need investigating. I mean the whole thing will need going over but there’s hardly any bait or fishing shops around here that would sell that sort of stuff.”

Lydia nodded and moved closer to the gurney, after the initial shock, her expression now looked all business. “Stiles they look like wolf claws. The legs are human,” she said scanning the contents of the gurney, “but the feet are something else.”

“Is there a possibility it could be make up? Like from a movie or TV - special effects, is someone taking the piss? Is there anything filming around here?” He asked the idea suddenly popping into his head. Twilight and Michael J Fox eat your heart out.

“Not that I know of, but it’s a good idea,” Lydia said. Stiles watched her gloved hand push against the skin of the mutilated thigh closest to her. “I think these sections are human which means the feet are, no doubt as I see no obvious joins at the ankle. The appearance of the feet though? I’m not sure, I’ll find out when I do a more thorough investigation and clean them up.”

Stiles pulled back from the gurney. “You got anyone you can trust to do this with you?”

“Like off the record trust?”

“Yes.”

Lydia laughed. It was a strange sound to hear in such an oppressive environment and made Stiles smile briefly.

 “There’s a guy back at the lab who I think can help out. I’ve worked with him for years and will probably like the challenge.”

“Can he be trusted?”

“I think so.”

“What about Scott?”

“Our local veterinarian?”

“Son you really want to get Scott involved? He has enough on his hands at the moment with the baby and Kira.” Stiles had forgotten about his dad’s presence momentarily and jumped at hearing his voice. Apparently, he'd also forgotten about his god daughter’s imminent arrival into the world too. _Fuck._ “It might distract him from Kira’s demands for ice cream.” In fact, Stiles was fairly sure Scott would love to be involved given where they were. “He might enjoy a break, plus… _grrr claws_.”

 John shook his head. “What is it with you and this place?”

Fighting a smile Stiles stayed silent. Lydia on the other hand was apparently ‘going there’. Stiles winced at her words.

“Oh I forgot about your love for this place. I bet this is a wet dream of a case for you,” she said with a sly smile. “You have free license to creep about the place without getting arrested.”

“That’s not-.”

“Sir?” A voice suddenly said. In all the excitement of Lydia arriving Stiles had forgotten about Isaac being present. His mind was…

“Yes detective?”

“Do you want me to grab a camera so we can photograph the walls?”

“Good idea, go grab one from the CSI lot. Make sure it’s a fresh memory card so we can keep it.”

“Hang on Detective Lahey,” Lydia said pulling back from the gurney, straightening the white boiler suit as she did so. “I’ll come with you; this place gives me the creeps.”

Waiting for Isaac and Lydia leave the room Stiles immediately turned to his father. “I know what I am doing Dad.” he said calmly. Suddenly he felt like all his hard work over the years protecting his father from his work was unraveling before his eyes. He needed to-.

“I know Mikolaj. I just didn’t realise.”

For the first time in a long time Stiles stilled at the use of his birth name, “I’m okay Dad. Did you have to go and break out the Mikolaj though?”

John sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets. “I think your right about keeping it quiet.”

“Yeah?” It was good to hear him agree but his Dad’s expression was confusing. “You okay?”

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah. There’s just one thing that no one has mentioned that’s staring us in the face.”

Really?

Stiles eyes scanned the room in case he’d missed anything. Triskelion artwork, check, walls, check, gurney, check, legs, check. He mentally listed the scene all one by one. No, there was nothing else standing out to him as batshit crazy (other than the obvious other batshit crazy stuff in there) that he could see.

Stiles was confused. “What?”

John eyed him with a ‘are you being serious’ kind of look. “The legs?”

“Yep.” Stiles could see them; they were right under his nose. Nothing out of the ordinary was jumping out at him.

“How many legs do humans have?

Why Stiles then counted them he was unsure-.

Shit.

Crap.

That hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Three legs could only mean… “We have another body somewhere,” he announced suddenly. Not even Lydia had picked up on it.

“We do.”

“Dad…”

“Son, whatever you need.”

 

*******

 

The day seemed to drag on forever after the realization they may have another body somewhere. After talking with his dad and informing his partner who somehow also hadn’t made the multiple leg connection, they all decided it would be best to keep the discovery of the limbs and their condition under wraps for now.

Procedurally it wasn't a situation that Stiles was comfortable with but he was riding with it for his dad’s sake. Feet with claws? Stiles hoped that Lydia could confirm it was special effects make up sooner than later otherwise he would be dealing with every single government and news agencies across America.  

And that he didn’t want.

It was good however to smell the fresh air once again. After being inside for five hours and watching Lydia’s assistant remove the body parts, he'd stepped outside, ripped off his second face mask of the day and sucked in the biggest lung full of Beacon Hills air he could.

“You get all the shots we need?” he said to his partner contently. LA maybe his home now, but the air quality was shocking.

Isaac lifted the camera with a smile. “Yeah, I did a couple of additional panoramic shots with my phone of the bedroom.”

The smile told him his partner seemed to be a little feeling better. “Good. Your stomach calmed down?”

“A little, it’d been a bit of strange day.”

Of that Stiles couldn’t disagree. All he wanted was to back to his rented motel room, strip off his suit and climb into the shower. “Back to the motel?” he asked as they approached their rental car.

Isaac shrugged. “To be honest I could do with a shower and some food before we do anything else.”

“Same.”

“Has your dad gone now?”      

“Yep, they got another call apparently about a break in on the other side of town.”

“Small town police forces eh?”

“Indeed.”

Reaching the car Stiles waited for Isaac to ping the central locking before he climbed in and stretched the seat belt over his shoulder.

Christ it had been a long day. Longer and more brain taxing than Stiles had expected. Rubbing his hand over his hair and face he allowed his head to fall back onto the rest behind. He needed to sleep desperately.

“Sir?” Isaac’s voice broke the silence. “Do you think they are real? The claws?”

Stiles sank further into the seat. It was a question he had been rolling around his brain for most of the day so much so that his brain was beginning to hurt. Discovering the mutilated torso in the operating theater was one thing but the three leg situation in South Ward of all places was another.

“I suspect its special effects make up Isaac,” he said with confidence.

“But what if it isn’t.”

“You mean what if it’s someone (or somebodies) who's had a bad pedicure?”

“No sir, what if they really had wolf claws?” Really? Is that what Isaac really thought? “All I’m saying Sir is that it could be true, we don’t know for sure.”

 _Unbelievable._ “Like fairy tales?”

Isaac’s face blushed at the words. “Kind of, more like mythology, folk lore.”

Trying not to embarrass his partner Stiles chose his words carefully. “Detective, where are you coming up with this stuff from? It’s make up, special effects. The stuff on the walls could have been there for days, weeks even. That part of the hospital had hardly any damage, it could have been preserved.”

Isaac responded by sighing softly, as if he was about to unload a weight from his shoulders. “My uncle, well he’s not my actual uncle, his parents where my guardian’s until I turned eighteen, he’s a professor at the University of Louisiana he teaches it - Mythology and Folklore.”

“Right…”

“He would say it was true.”

“There are wolves that can turn into humans and vise versa?” Now Stiles really was confused.

“Yes. He’s adamant.”

Stiles laughed. “Does he partake in illegal substances at all?”

Isaac’s expression dropped. “No he doesn’t, I suspect he’s never smoked a thing in his life, he’s very… intense.”

“Intense and he believes in this sort of stuff?”

“There is nothing strange that Uncle Derek doesn’t believe in.”

“Uncle Derek?” The guy was called Derek and he was into fairy tales? For real? Stiles let out a silent laugh. This wasn’t Peter and the Wolf.

“Sure. Derek Hale, my uncle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to say that American Police Procedure is not my strong point (I've learnt everything I know from NYPD Blue, Bad Boys and The First 48) so I am using artistic license when it comes to some of the technical stuff. I always research where I can. 
> 
> Also now you've read it the chapter title 'Ny Tree Cassyn' is Manx for the three legs.


	3. Name that victim in three...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less of the macabre here but more groundwork. Also I name a victim here, not a major character in the story although he played a big part in Season 2. I haven't tagged his name.
> 
> (All mistakes are mine obviously)

Stiles tugged at his ear buds, leaving the music playing in the back ground and eyed his surroundings. Not for the first time he’d managed to fall asleep upright surrounded by paperwork.

“Shit,” he said with a stretch. How long had he slept? Two, maybe three hours? He remembered seeing 4 o’clock that was for sure.

Sighing heavily, he rolled his neck clockwise to rid it of the kinks then repeated the action again in the opposite direction.

Had he really been up all night?

Bending forward, he reached for the archive photo of the hospital sat on the top of the pile. Had he been studying this before bed? It wasn’t a particularly interesting shot merely showing a group of people stood outside entrance to the building dressed in uniforms but apparently something had grabbed his attention enough to warrant slapping a post it note on it with a question mark.

Stretching his arms upwards, Stiles leaned back against the headboard. After leaving the crime scene the evening before, he and Isaac had first taken a detour around to his Dad’s house to pick up a box of old research he knew was hiding in his closet, and then he had spent the next hour over burgers answering his partner’s questions about Beacon Hills.

How long had he lived there?

Why had he left?

Had he ever been in the hospital before?

Stiles casually answered all of them truthfully, even going as far as to tentatively admit his teenage obsession with Beacon Hills own Cuckoo’s Nest.

He hadn’t opened the box full of research though, not straight away and not in front of Isaac. No, to do that, he had waited for the privacy of his hotel bedroom, where he didn’t need to wear a suit and with the most calming classical music playlist he could find (it helped him relax okay?). Then he had tipped the contents out, letting half of them fall to the floor where they still sat.

Straightening himself up, Stiles reached for a second photo from the pile. Like the other, it was a similar shot of the front of the hospital and showed more rows of staff dressed in white nursing and orderly uniforms and men in suits proudly stood in front of their workplace. What looked out of place however where the smiles they wore on their faces. That seemed a world away from the horrors inside.

Could they have been made to smile? A smile now and forever hold your peace sort of thing? Stiles shuddered against the thought, what a place to work. His research had revealed it wasn’t the most pleasant place to reside at as a patient but to work there? The stuff they may have seen?

Stiles stopped himself before he got himself all tangled up to deeply in thought. If he was going to investigate this case properly he was going to have to stop himself from turning back into an obsessive restless fifteen year old boy.

Slowly stripping himself out of the rest of his clothes Stiles made his way to the bathroom and turned on the water until steam filled the small space. Once he stepped inside he tilted his head up and allowed the water to run freely over his body.  Stupidly (even for him) he hadn’t showered on his return last night and could sense that somehow he was still feeling the effects of the hospital’s oppressive environment. Reaching for a small bottle Stiles emptied the contents into his hand and scrubbed the blob of shampoo into hair. When he felt clean he turned his attention to his body taking care to scrub hard everywhere. Stiles wasn’t an idiot. To others it might had seemed a little excessive but if it washed all evidence of a crime scene off him – if only till he returned – he would feel 100% better. When he finished Stiles pulled back the shower curtain, climbed out of the bath tub and dried his body off with the white fluffy towel provided. Locating his suit carrier he pulled out his LAPD Homicide Police Department T-shirt and fresh jeans and slipped the latter over his legs.

Ten minutes later (almost a record) a tired looking Stiles stood in the hotel lobby waiting for Isaac to bring the car around to the front.

“You sleep okay?” he said to his similarly dressed partner as approached the vehicle. His phone ping as he did so.

Isaac nodded. He waited for Stiles to get in the car and secure himself before he replied. “I did, needed to shower first though. I smelled something awful after being there all day.”

Stiles chuckled. “The place left its mark that’s for sure.”

“Where do you want to go first boss? The Morgue or back to the hospital?” Isaac asked as he pulled out of the car park. Apparently his partner was as keen as he was to close this investigation.

“Morgue apparently. Lydia’s texted me to say she has completed the autopsy.” Stiles replied staring at the message that had come through.

Isaac looked shocked. “She’s done it already?”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s what she does, hasn’t changed since high school. Once she gets in the zone it’s hard for to stop until she’s finished. It’s why she bested me so many times at tests.”

“Do you think she’s looked at the legs too?”

Stiles shrugged again, he privately hoped she had but he knew the autopsy would have kept her busy. “Probably, although someone else she trusts is looking at them to. So maybe not.”

“Do you know who? Having grown up here?”

“I have a inclining.” Stiles said taking a deep breathe. If it was who he thought it was then he was going to have words with her.

“You do? Yeah?”

“I suspect we’ll be paying a visit to the local vets after the morgue.” Stiles replied before going back to the contents of the phone. Telling Isaac probably wasn’t the best idea he had had but if they were going to work together on this case he needed to be honest.

“Oh right. A vet?”

“Doctor Alan Deaton. Ex trauma surgeon, retired army officer and the current lead Veterinarian at Beacon Hill Animal Hospital.”

“Wow.”

Stiles shrugged. “He wanted an easy life after he was injured on active service.”

Isaac looked stunned. “And it’s your best friend who works with him?”

“Scott McCall? Yeah, he’ll be there, although not – I hope - near the remains. He’s like me though, interfering is his default setting.” 

 

*****

 

The County Morgue was situated just off the main highway in between Beacon Hills and the closest town to it. A grey brick building it stood stark and imposing against the greenery that surrounded it.

“We’re here,” Isaac announced, pulling into a space marked for visitors then turning the engine off. “Have you been here before?”

 Stiles peered up at the drab looking building. “Not this one, no,” he answered opening the car door.

“I suppose they all look the same?”

“After a while yes.”

Striding quickly towards the entrance Stiles clenched his jaw. Lydia’s text had been short and brief with very little information. What concerned him more though was the confused looking emoticon and thumbs up signal she had followed it up with.

“Front entrance is this way.”

Following Isaac, Stiles made his way up some stones steps and waited as Isaac buzzed the intercom on the wall. “Detectives Lahey and Lieutenant Stilinski, Homicide Division, Dr Martin is expecting us,” he said in a too loud voice that made Stiles think the nervous tension from the day before was still there.

“You doing okay?” he asked his partner.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah. I think.” He replied firmly, the sudden sharp intake of air that followed it told Stiles differently though. “They said it would be hard working with you, and I get what they mean, but there? In your home town you know everyone.”

If only it was that simple Stiles thought. “Not everyone, I’ve not lived here properly for nearly 10 years. I left to study Criminology in California and never returned. To be honest I hardly know anyone now, the place has changed that much.”

Isaac didn’t look convinced, “right.”

“I know what you mean though,” Stiles emphasized. It was hard being the outsider. Hell, he felt like the outsider even in Beacon Hills.

The sound of the lock mechanism opening cut off any further discussion between either of them and Stiles pushed at the door.

“Morning Stiles,” a voice said to his left and Stiles angled his body towards it. Lydia. Dressed in scrubs and white clogs Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen her looking so casual or professional (if that that could be a thing) in this life. Not recently anyway. Not since he had escaped to LA.

“Hey Lydia, you got something for me?” Stiles asked. “Anything at all?”

Lydia smiled in response. “I got you an ID.”

That was not what he had been expecting. So soon? “Really? Of the torso or the other body parts.”

Lydia nodded her head once. “Matthew Daehler, twenty five, single, no kids, has previous for robbery, grand theft, and assault with a weapon. His DNA was in our system. One quick search and baddaboom bingo we got him.” Only Lydia could make it sound so easy. 

“I’m impressed Martin.” Stiles said with a shake of his head.

Lydia chuckled. “So you should be; I am _that_ good. Hey Detective Lahey, you good today?”

_Jesus Christ._

“Yes, better. It smells better in here than it did in there.”

“Of course it does. I work here.”

“Do we have a cause of death?” Stiles said interrupting the pair before it went any further. “Does our victim DNA match those from the legs?” He asked, assuming a sample had been taken at the crime scene.

“Now that’s the best bit.” Lydia replied with a pause, her attention with Stiles again. “Follow me, let’s walk and talk.”

Lydia led the two men along a wide open corridor that looked out onto the main road they had just driven down.

“We need to be my office to discuss this,” she said with nod of her head indicating they needed to go through a set of locked doors at the end of the corridor.

“That bad?”

Lydia paused to open the door with a key fob before answering. “Possibly. Yes. They…” She replied, as she held the held the door open and gestured for the two of them to follow her through it.

“You got a hit?” Isaac barked. Stiles caught the hint of surprise in his voice.

Stepping through the open space Stiles waited for his partner to follow him then pulled the door tight until he heard the click.

In front of him Isaac was now positively vibrating. Gone was the quiet Isaac, any evidence of his nervous and unsure partner had disappeared.

“We may have yes.”

Staying silent Stiles remained to the rear of their small group as they walked down another drab looking corridor. Had he acted like Isaac at the start, nervous, scared, yet excited about every little detail? Of course he had he told himself. Just listening to them reminded him of his first real case.

“Did you hear that Sir?”  

Eh? Stiles quickly shook his head. Somehow they had made it into Lydia’s office and closed the door without him even noticing. Stiles shook his head softly at himself. He really needed to sleep at some point.

“Two of the legs positivity matched our victim. The other is unidentified and there’s no hit on the DNA.”

So good and bad news Stiles thought not so casually...

“The best part though-.”

“More like the strangest Detective Lahey,” Lydia said interrupting.

Isaac seemed to be vibrating even more now. “Sorry Doctor Martin… Sir the strangest part is that the claws, on all three legs were real.”

 Pardon?

Stiles just about stopped himself from taking a step back in surprise. Instead he tried to hide his reaction by rubbing his hand over his face. _Real?_ “You’re joking right?” he asked with a nervous chuckle. “This is one of your stupid morgue jokes right? How the hell can a human foot actually be a wolf – forward slash – dog claw?”

Lydia shook her head. “I had Alan look them over. It’s real. Why do you think I told you in here?”

Stiles glanced from his colleague to his friend, their expressions growing more excited with each word. He’d thought, no hoped – this would be a cut and dry case, raving psychopath, serial killer, hunt the bad guy, put them away. Now it sounded like there was a whole other thing – fucking hell he didn’t even know what to call it – to deal with.

He stared at Lydia in surprise for several seconds, “are you sure?”

To Lydia’s credit she answered him quickly. “I trust Alan, he wouldn’t lie.”

“The legs and their altered feet are definitely real?” It was going to take a while for it to sink in.

“Yes, no alterations, no make-up, no special effects, the DNA matched at every point it was taken from. Alan got Scott in to confirm it.”

“Scott knows to?” Stiles shook his head.

“Scott ran a second lot of tests and confirmed Alan’s. When I told him you where the lead investigator he knew Scott could be trusted. Plus he there is no way he’d leave this alone. Your fascination with that hospital is downright creepy”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles said with a huff. His whole body shook forcefully with the motion. Scott would have known that Stiles would have been excited about the crime scene being at the hospital, she was right, there was no way his best friend would have ever declined. In fact? A thought suddenly crossed his mind. “We need to keep this quiet. Me, you, Isaac, Alan and Scott know – that’s it?” And his Dad too but Stiles wasn’t going to even think about that.

Lydia nodded her head in agreement and Stiles turned to Isaac for him to do the same.

“Isaac?” Stiles asked and searched his partner’s face for confirmation. Instead Isaac looked uncomfortable, his face red and blotchy. “Isaac?”

_Shit._

“Who did you tell?”

Later Stiles would listen to Isaac apologise profusely, but now? “Sir, I know this is my first case and I have no excuse for messing up but last night I spoke to my Uncle Derek. The guy I mentioned last night-.”

 “The professor?”

Isaac hesitated; he looked a little afraid and in Stiles’ opinion rightly so. “Yes… I spoke to him and told him what we had found.”

“Right,” Stiles bit out. “And what did he say?” _Because come on._

“I explained where I was and about the triskelion pattern on the wall.”

“And?”

“He needs to see it.”

Of course the professor would want to. What expert in mythology and mumbo jumbo shit wouldn’t want too. Was his partner stupid? “Did you mention the legs?”

“No.”

“Just the triskelion?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“He’s on the next flight.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. “To Beacon Hills?”

“He’s asked us to meet him at the airport.”

 

*****

The next few hours seemed to go forever. After speaking to Alan (and then Scott) over the phone Stiles ensured their confidentiality then spent a good hour of his day taking his partner to task without going as far as disciplining him. As Lydia had so rightly pointed out before they left the morgue, if Stiles took action to do it formally he would also need to disclose information about the case that they’d all agreed to keep silent about.

“What time does he land?” Stiles asked Isaac as they made their way through to his Dad’s office at the back of the police station. A long day at the mortuary and studying the body had ended with them returning to the police station with the intention to go onto the veterinary surgery after closing time.

Isaac replied with a murmur, “half past ten tonight. He wants to see the bedroom and the graffiti.”

Stiles barked a laughed at the idea, “not at midnight, there’s no way anyone is getting in there then. Plus it’s sealed off.” Who was this dude? “He can get a room at the motel, eat, sleep and then go in the morning. He’ll be your responsibility.”

“Yes sir.”

“If you thought the place was scary during the day, it’s even worse at night.”

“Yes sir.”

Hoping any ideas that Isaac had of sneaking into the crime scene had been shut down Stiles knocked on the door of his dad’s office.

“Son, come in, I hear from Alan you’ve got a doozey.”

 Stiles rolled his eyes and walked in. “Dad...”

“I hear what I hear, and what I hear is some fancy bloke from New Orleans is on his way.”

Before Isaac could answer Stiles replied, “He’s an expert in mythology and strange stuff. And Isaac’s uncle. Isaac took it upon himself to invite him.” Stiles tried to explain. His dad wasn’t listening though.

“Like that guy off the television?”

“Which guy?”

The Sheriff indicated for them to sit before he answered, “the physic, Red John.”

“Patrick Jane? You’re comparing this to a TV programme.” Stiles said pausing to suck in a lung full of air. “No dad, he’s a college professor. He’s coming to look at the graffiti and that’s all.” After a long conversation with both Lydia and Isaac, Stiles had made it clear to everyone that Professor Hale was to go nowhere near the body parts.

Nowhere.

“He got a name?”

Before Stiles could reply his phone rang cutting any answer he had off. “Detective Stilinski,” he said sharply into the handset. The voice on the other end sounded like it was coming from a call center.

“Where?” he said, urgently indicating with a hand signal to his partner to take notes. The details were limited but the location specific to the inch. “West Cliff Road, just off the Interstate, towards Beacon Hills, in the remains of what building…? There’s a building there? Right…will we be able to get through the perimeter fence and gate house okay? Right… we’ll be there in hour tops… We’ll find it.”

Stiles cut the call off without saying goodbye and turned to the two other men in the room. “We got another body.”

“Actually son, we got a problem.”

Stiles ignored the expression on his dad’s face. He was too calculating how to get to the new crime scene as quickly as he could and swing by the surgery at the same time. “To right we have, one body, same set up as last time.”

“No Stiles, we have a problem. This professor you got coming?”

Stiles nodded. He was sorry but the guy was going to need to take a back seat for another day or so. He could enjoy the sights of Beacon Hills. “What about him?”

“You heard of the Hale mansion?”

Stiles stilled at his dad’s reply. He hadn’t… not until five minutes earlier. “Yeah, it’s where they’ve found the second body. What about it?”

The Sheriff let out an exasperated huff. “Hale mansion…?”

“My Uncle Derek?”

Stiles suspected they heard the penny drop in his squad room back at Divisional HQ. “Your Uncle Derek is from Beacon Hills and he has a mansion?”

It was his dad that spoke. “They had a mansion, they left twenty six years ago.”

“Holy shit,” he cried running a hand through his hair. He turned to Isaac. “Did you know?”

“No. Not until the Sheriff said.”

“Why did they leave?”

“No one knows. They left in the middle of the night.”

“They did a moonlight flit?”

“The whole family. As far as I know they still own the place though.”

Apparently this whole case was getting stranger by the day. “Looks we’ll need Professor Hale after all,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Stiles looked across the office at his dad and took a deep breath. He had a mutilated body (possibly two), body parts with wolf claws, mysterious graffiti and now a ‘expert’ in mythology who just happened to be the owner of a crime scene.

God damn it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be a little longer but decided to have the big guy appear next chapter. As if Derek Hale would be able to stay away... whether he is going to be helpful is another thing though...


	4. An AP Chemistry Score of 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More blood and gore.  
> Another body is found.  
> The Sheriff is worrying about retirement.  
> A new arrival making demands left right and center gets Stiles annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kill someone else off in this episode. He totally deserves it though.
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

“Not necessarily sir.”

“Not necessarily what?” Stiles replied. Coupled with the abrupt tone he used, Stiles could have stabbed Isaac in the chest with the look he sent him.

_Shit._

Stiles winced inwardly. He could tell he needed to calm the fuck down and take a deep breath.  For some reason, the instant his Dad had made the connection with the Hale family and the professor, a familiar nervous tension had worked its way to his gut.

“We don’t need my Uncle to view the site; it’s a crime scene Sir. I know we may not have a lot of details yet, but if there are any remains, then they are ours,” Isaac continued. If he had been bothered by Stiles’ words he hadn’t shown it and Stiles blew out a silent sigh of relief. 

Of course the younger detective was right Stiles knew this because it was basic procedure, but something told Stiles this old Professor guy may still want to be involved.

“Yes,” Stiles said with a nod, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. They would deal with the Professor later as a trio, but now he had to put his game face on. Steadying himself, Stiles took another deep breath and sent a silent thank you to a therapist he had once seen and who had taught him the technique. “You’re right; I just want this place closed down quickly,” he finally replied as calmly as he could, instincts now taking over. Another deep breath would do it. “Who knows what condition the body is in and if there is an additional dump site away from the main one. I’d rather not have every Tom, Dick or Harry walking all over it. I want you here though.”

“At the station?” Isaac replied with a blink. It almost pained Stiles to see the expression on his partners face drop. _Shit._

“No. Contact your uncle, tell him to make his way to a motel, book in, eat, sight see, whatever. Advise him that we will be there shortly,” Stiles said quickly clarifying his words. He didn’t want piss the new guy off. Not yet anyway. Not until Stiles really needed too. “Remember he doesn’t know yet about the discovery of the second body. In fact he doesn’t even know ‘bout the circumstances around the first with the exception of the graffiti right?  So let’s keep it that way right?”

Thankfully, Stiles could see Isaac already had his notebook out. This was better. “And after I’ve contacted Derek?”

“Go to the Veterinary Surgery and speak to Dr Deaton and Scott. Get their report and then come to us. My advice? Write everything down that they say. _Everything..._ In fact? That shorthand you bragged about in your transfer application? You’re gonna need to put it good use because once Scott gets going he’s hard to shut up,” Stiles added with a smile.

“Then shall I meet you at the crime scene?” Isaac asked already making his way to the office door.

Stiles nodded a yes to the quickly retreating junior officer. It was a last minute thought to send Isaac to the vets on his own, but his partner needed to know that Stiles trusted him.

 “I’ll inbox you the directions Isaac!” Stiles shouted through the open office door. “Oh and if Scott pushes you into allowing him to tag along tell him Stiles says no way in hell.”

 “Jesus Christ Stiles.” Out of the corner of his eye Stiles watched his Dad stand up and make his way across the room, his voice sounded pained.

_Fuck._

“Dad, you’re with me.” This time Stiles didn’t wait for an answer, instead he concentrated on adjusting his side arm and straightening the departmental polo shirt whilst ignoring his Dad obvious hesitation. “Are we good to go?” 

John apparently wasn’t so sure though. “You sure you want me there?”

Stiles nodded his head as confidently as he could and with all the positive energy he could muster. Embarrassingly it had took him four years of college and the academy to figure out how similar he and John where in the way they thought. And it was only now he did realise there was nothing on earth that could dint their ability to do a job they loved, day in day out on their own. But doing it together, working alongside? Now that was different story. In fact truthfully? It terrified him and when he did answer John he did it as calmly as he could.

“I do.”

Leaving the station was easy. Stiles frogmarched them both at speed through the Sheriff’s own squad room and out the front doors before anyone could stop them to ask about the case. He knew it was stupid but it was the only way Stiles could do it without taking a breath.

“We’ll take my truck,” he heard John say and saw him point towards a shiny new Beacon Hill Sheriff’s Department SUV. “Get in; the Hale place is a bit of a drive.”

“They finally gave you a new jeep eh?” Stiles said as he reached the SUV.

John replied with a nod and opened the driver’s door. “Yeah, last month. I drive the same one for fifteen years, then four months before I retire? They give me a new one.”

Stiles chuckled. Copying his Dad he grabbed the door handle opened his own door and climbed onto the leather passenger seat. _Sweet._ “It’s definitely better than the last one that’s for sure,” he muttered sinking into the leather. That one had had springs sticking through the material. God knows what the less well behaved resident of Beacon Hills thought of it let alone his Dad.

Resting his head back Stiles waited for John to start the engine – which it did so with a roar - then pull out of the car park. For the first few miles they stuck to the main roads as scenery and landmarks he knew well passed them by. Stiles noted they took a left turn just after his old high school and then a series of sharp right turns which had him bracing himself against the passenger door. Finally his Dad pulled the vehicle onto a deserted gravel road that looked like it hadn’t seen much action recently and killed the engine.

“This it?” Stiles asked. He ducked his head down so he could get a better look out of the window screen. There was no sign of the so called mansion or no signposts. The only thing that said there was something ahead was that the overgrown gravel road continued and disappeared into the depths of the forest.

There was nothing but silence.

“Dad?”

“Son I need to apologize before we go any further.”

 _He did?_ Stiles leaned forward. “You do?”

“Yes.” John sagged into his seat and blew out a long breath as he spoke. The move worried at Stiles’ conscious more than he cared to admit. John Stilinski had never looked more ready for retiring than he did at that moment. His hands gripped at steering wheel so hard they were white and his expression was fixed straight ahead looking at god knows what through the window. Stiles wanted – no needed to reach out and touch him. “I fucked up son.”

“What? When?” Stiles spluttered drawing back his hand. He listened as his Dad blew out another long breath before he continued.

“At the hospital, the other day.”

 _“Right okay?”_ Stiles furrowed his brows. His Dad’s short explanation still made no sense.

“When your partner first mentioned his Uncle Derek, it didn’t register with me. My head… it’s been… well you know? What’am’i gonna do when I retire son? This is all I know.” John said quietly, just loud enough for Stiles to hear him. He closed his eyes before he continued. “That’s not the point though and you aren’t to worry. The thing is I do remember the Hales though, their family anyway,” “Before they left, they owned a lot of the land surrounding Beacon Hills and up towards the mountains.”

 _Okay._ “And after? Why did they leave?”

“No one knows. Honestly? I don’t think anyone realized they had at first. They kept themselves to themselves. I dealt with them only once. The perimeter fence and gate house appeared about two days after. Three weeks after that a fire destroyed any evidence that was left.”    

Stiles whistled low. “Was it investigated? The fire?”

“It was; the fire investigation reports said it was electrical, which fit because it started in the basement. But not one single member of the family ever returned to Beacon Hills for us to report back too. All communication went through via their representative and Joe the old Sheriff. We never got involved.”

Well that was certainly different. And quite possibly even more confusing. “So where does this old dude, Derek Hale fit into all this?”

John tipped his head to one side and pulled a face. “Son, Derek isn’t an old dude; he would have been about ten, maybe younger, I’m not sure. There was an older sister too, Laura, who died. Talia and James Hale, their parents also had three more children but their names escape me.”

It was quite the brood and another thing Stiles hadn't been expecting. “Anyone else?”

“There was an Uncle – a real one, Talia’s brother, who lived there to but he was never seen.”

 _Right._ “Still alive?”

“He’d be about my age if he is. Strange guy Joe said, like to sit in his room all day.”

“How did the daughter die?” Stiles asked, immediately mentally slapping himself upside the head. He really didn’t need something else to ruminate over when he already had bigger fish to fry. The ‘nosy neighbor’ side of him slept less than he did and it annoyed the hell out of him.

“That I do remember. I was a rookie at the time. Your Mum was still alive and you hadn’t been born – although you were thought about. They said it was an animal attack, probably a bear or a mountain lion. Reports from the family stated she an argument with her parents ran out into the woods and never came back.”

Christ. Stiles shook his head in disbelief. Talk about a run of bad luck. But that still didn’t explain why his father was apologizing. “So why are you telling me this? Why you sorry?”

John paused again before he blew out another long breath. “Because, for some reason I think it’s important. It’s no coincidence Derek Hale is suddenly returning to Beacon Hills after so long.”

Stiles shook his head. No, no way, they’d be careful to not let information leak. “But he doesn’t know about the body yet and he only decided to come after Isaac called him without me knowing.”

“Son, he’ll know about the first one whether you like it or not. It was on the local news for Christ’s sake. We didn’t release any specific details per your request, but your partners call probably would have caught his attention enough for him to investigate. All he had to run was run a search on Beacon Hills and watch the hits come in.”

Shit. Stiles hadn’t thought about that. Or had he and ignored it? Now everything inside of him was suddenly screaming W _arning Warning Danger Will Robinson’_ and it unnerved him. Too much was happening at once with this case – bodies, mansions, fires, dead sisters, legs and derelict hospitals, one thing after another. He needed his usual space to think. His own office space in the shitty beige colored room they called a homicide department or the park next to his apartment to run in. He needed some time to work everything out and fit the jigsaw pieces together. He needed to-.

_Shit._

_God damn it._

_Fuck._

Before he could curse again, the sound of the SUV’s engine starting up cut Stiles off. The loud roar waking up the forest as they set off.

_Fuck._

After following the gravel road for no more than mile it opened up to reveal a gatehouse and the familiar comforting sight of the blue flashing lights belonging to Police SUV’s parked flanking the brick structure. In the distance Stiles could just about make out the familiar sight of a coroners van.

“Lydia is already here.”

John replied with a small chuckle. “She’s good at what she does.”

 “She always has been.” Stiles snorted. Damn AP scores.

Not waiting for the SUV to stop before climbing out of it Stiles yelled across the open space “let’s shut the site down please!” Flashing his badge, he worked his way through a crowd of State Troopers Stiles then discreetly signaled to John to get them out of there, “I don’t want news crews getting in.” He added in his best _‘do it now’_ tone. He didn’t want to boss John about but this was currently his crime scene. Or so he told himself, because the familiar sight of Lydia’s blond hair being tucked into a medical skull cap caught his attention. Even in a blue overall she looked good.

“Good afternoon Lieutenant.” Lydia said with a smirk as he approached her. “No partner today?”

Stiles had to laugh. “Lydia, he’s a rookie detective, you’re expert level, leave him be.”

She waved him off with a hand. “I’m playing and you know it. Although I’m beginning to think someone is determined I don’t get a good night’s sleep.”

 Stiles couldn’t agree more. “It’s the life we chose Lydia. Sunshine, sleep and unicorns are the stuff of our dreams. But to answer your question, my partner is at the surgery dealing with Alan and Scott, he is coming here after. Anyway… back to business what you got? Who found it?”

“More kids. Apparently they have been using the place to drink and party. The body is in one of the bedrooms.”

Kids again. Had he and Scott been this bad? _Probably._ “Is it in a good condition?”

“The body or the bedroom?  Because both are pretty messed up.”

 Stiles sighed. Of course they both were. “Any graffiti in situ?”

“No.”

Stiles nodded as he followed Lydia towards the building. At the entrance he was handed a blue paper boiler suit to slip on. “This necessary?” he asked grabbing the garment. “Because blue is not so my color girl.”

“On my crime scenes yes,” Lydia said with a roll of her eyes. “Plus this one’s a bit messy.”

Great stuff.

With a huff Stiles suited up. He hated wearing the protective gear but if needs must, he would.

Once he was fully protected Stiles began to follow Lydia into what he assumed would have been an impressive entrance hall back in the day. Stepping inside he scanned the space with raised eyebrow. The brick shell of the building was essentially still in once piece but charred black from the fire damage. What surprised him though was the condition of the tiled floor. It was clean, looked like it had recently been swept and there was a distinct pathway marked out towards the staircase.

“The staircase safe?” he asked his eyes landing on what looked like another unsteady structure. Was the house safe to walk about in?

Lydia shook her head. “We’ve been using a metal one at the back of the property that somehow survived the original fire years ago. It’s been a bitch to get my stuff up it.”

“Lead on then.”  

 Five minutes later (Lydia had been right about the metal stairs) Stiles found himself two floors up looking across a semi open plan room that at one time would have been the roof space. How the hell had they got a body up here? The stairs weren’t narrow but to even Stiles wouldn’t have been able to carry a body up. “How did..?”

“Service lift we think comes straight up from the basement.” 

It was still working? “The place has power?”

Lydia gave her head another shake. “Back up pulley system, like dumbwaiter, its old, but still works - probably used by the servants at one time. We are processing it now.” Remembering the size of place Stiles realized that kind of made sense. If the Hale family had been as rich as his father had indicated it would make sense they would have had servants.

“It’s big enough to hold a body?”

This time Lydia didn’t answer, instead she indicated to Stiles with a finger a screened off section of the attic space lit up with crime scene lights. How the hell had he missed that? “Is it all in one piece?” he asked remembering about the body from the day before. Christ he hoped to god it was.

“You… better come and have a look.”

Stiles sensed an air of caution in Lydia’s tone and knew he needed to keep quiet. He knew Lydia well enough to know that if she was unsure, then he needed to be to.

As he approached the screens Stiles soon realized why. He took a deep breath which forced a cough out of him as he spotted the blood splatter in multiple places across the clear plastic and the odd tear in it as if something had hit the surface with force. What the fuck? This was… hell he didn’t even know what this was. Eyeing the scene closer Stiles immediately saw the same pattern was repeated on the other three sides of the makeshift cubicle. 

Holy shit.

“This is the kill site?” If he sounded surprised it was because he was. “This was already set up like this? Like a cubicle?” Once again the scene looked medical.

Lydia cocked her head to one side as if she was concentrating hard on something behind the plastic sheet and answered quietly. “I think so. I said it was messy.”

Yeah no shit Sherlock.

Seeing a small gap had been left for them to push through, Stiles did so right after Lydia and immediately sent a silent thank you towards his friend and her insistence that he wore protective clothing.

Apparently Dr Martin hadn’t been lying when she had described the scene as messy. The whole space was covered in blood, red stripes of it rising up from a very distinct point of origin in the center of the room.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

The remains lay on a metal bed frame, its limbs, or what was left of them where being supported by metal poles that at one time would have held a mattress. The head was intact but it was clear the body had been mutilated; the killer leaving a familiar Y-shaped scar across the chest cavity.

“There’s only one leg,” Stiles said with a frown. Was the other one sat in Alan Deaton’s surgery?

“Judging by the lack of blood loss near the thigh I suspect the other was removed post death. It all looks fairly normal though,” Lydia told him, obviously choosing her words very carefully. Stiles would need to remind himself to thank her later. “There is a blunt force trauma to the skull though – here, here and here, whatever caused it was a funny shape.” Stiles watched her point to the three indentations with a gloved finger. “I also can see bruising to the torso that was probably acquired before the victim died.”

“Do we ‘ave an ID?” Stiles asked attempting not to take a deep breath. For whatever reason, the smell of decay and death in the room had suddenly gotten very strong and was pinching at his nostrils. Stiles threw Lydia a glance and pulled a face. How she could stand to as close as she was to it was beyond him.

“We do now.”

“Seriously?” He replied in unrecognizable tone. Tutting, he made a mental note to hold back his surprise better in the future. “So soon? _That_ was carrying ID?” If they had, Stiles was going to ask where, because the body was naked enough that nothing could be concealed.

 “We don’t need ID. I can ID. You can confirm it.”

 “We know the victim? Are you serious?” Stiles spluttered. A million images flashed through his mind at Lydia’s words. It was someone from Beacon Hills? Like someone they knew?

From the startled look on Lydia’s face it was obviously she was as stunned as him. “It’s Mr Harris.”

 

*****

 

Stiles stripped himself out of the protective gear as soon as he hit the fresh air. In the time he’d been inside Hale mansion it had grown dark and the courtyard was now lit up like a theme park.

“Jesus Dad, they could see us on the space station,” Stiles said eyeing a large flood light.  

“You okay son?”

He was kinda and he nodded a quick yes before stopping himself from coughing up a lung. Crime scenes were not his favourite places in the world but he could handle them. God knows he’d visited enough and trained his stomach contents to stay intact over the years. But ones like the scene he’d just left pushed even him to his limits. “Am okay. It was… unpleasant though. Messy.”

“Yeah?” his dad looked warily at the reply as if he wasn’t sure.

“Body looks normal.”

“No… weirdness?”

How was he going to explain this? Their victim was a well-known teacher at the High School before he’d taken early retirement. In fact he three of them had sat at enough parents teacher conferences over the years for his Dad to nickname the ‘idiot one’. That didn’t mean he’d want him dead though. Not now anyway. The AP Chemistry score Harris has awarded him had almost cost him a place at college and Stiles remember his dad being pretty pissed off at the time.

“Nope, well…possibly. The victim it is Adrian Harris.” 

“Your old chemistry teacher? The idiot one?” The tone in John’s voice rose up an octave as he spoke.

“Is that weird enough for you Dad?”

“Your old Chemistry teacher is the victim? The one who messed up…”

Stiles replied with a smack of his lips. “Yep.”

“But no real… _weirdness_ right.” His dad still looked unsure and Stiles guessed what information he was pushing for.

“If you mean the legs, there was only one but…the other thing…no. _Fullish_ human remains.”

“Good. Jesus. Aiden Harris. Didn’t like the guy but dead?”

Scanning the mansion’s courtyard Stiles looked for Isaac and ignored his Dad’s ruminations, “Detective Lahey here yet? Has anyone seen him?” He asked the small group of people stood to his left. Thankfully John was already moving off towards two men he assumed where his deputies and Lydia – god love her – was already in the process of bringing the remains out with the help of a technician whilst the rest of her small team where photographing the area. The rest of the crowd left – and there was only a few – looked like they were leaving

Finally it looked under control. All he needed now was the report from Dr Deaton and Stiles would be sorted. “Anyone?” _Someone?_

As if by magic a harassed Isaac appeared and Stiles turned towards him. “Sir!”

“Did you get their report?” Stiles replied totally ignoring the paled expression his partner wore. He was very slowly getting used to Isaac’s mannerisms but even this was a new one for him. It looked almost scared…

“I did. But…”

“You’re Lieutenant Stilinski?” A rumbling voice suddenly said and Stiles turned towards it.

Holy. Shit. Who the fuck…

“I am. And you are?” Stiles replied swallowing his tongue. No… no fucking way. Where the fuck was his Dad for God’s sake? The site had been closed to the media hours ago so Stiles had every right to curse under this breath at everyone within ear shot, “Sir, this site a closed crime scene. My orders. Does someone want to explain who you are and what you’re doing here?” he continued pushing a look towards his new partner that told the man in no uncertain terms how he felt. “Detective?”

For a brief moment there was silence as Stiles attempted to hold his ground. He noted the uninvited guy also didn’t move which pissed him off even more. Slightly taller than him, ‘ _Mr I shouldn’t be here’_ was dressed simply in black jeans, knitwear that stretched across his chest, and wore an expression on his unshaven face that oozed arrogance.

Stiles didn’t like it one bit.

“Sir?”

“Detective Lahey you wanna explain?” Stiles said with a wave of his hand. He didn’t have time for shit like this he had a report to be read and pour over in the comfort of his own crappy motel room.

“Sir this is-.”

“Professor Derek Hale, Detective Stilinski. And I do believe you called me. In addition I’m fairly sure this is my family’s property.” The tone the guy used was sharp and direct and it annoyed Stiles even more.

Well shit.

He hadn’t been expecting _that._ He couldn’t remember the last time someone had dared to speak to him that way. Not during work hours anyway. And definitely not outside of being pushed up against the inside of a nightclub’s bathroom wall for a quick blow job. “ _Right._ Isaac’s Uncle,” Stiles replied steadying himself. It still didn’t explain why the guy was here though; Stiles had left implicit instructions after all…

“Uncle Derek was at the surgery when I arrived. Apparently he and Derek are friends.”

Of course they were. Stiles shook his head in frustration. Was there anyone in this town who led a quiet life and didn’t know anyone?

“My parents know Dr Deaton from when they lived in Beacon Hills, so when I received Isaac’s text demanding I stay away and ‘see the sights’ it was only natural I visited my family friend.”

Throughout his life there would be a point when Stiles had to decide whether he liked someone or not. More often than not it went either way. Before he had decided to retire, Stiles old partner and whose job he took fell victim to it their first meeting. Stiles had taken an instant dislike to the older man believing his ways were stuck in the seventies (he had reminded Stiles of Clint Eastwood’s Harry Callahan in that he was more than happy to whip out his gun and shoot someone). As the years passed though Stiles admitted he’d learnt to respect the man and believed that working with him had shaped him into the detective he now was.      

This wasn’t going to happen here, Stiles was quick to make up his mind and was sticking to it. No way. The tone Mr Hale – Professor – _whatever_ \- was using was already grating on his nerves and in a split second Stiles decided that the sooner the man left the better.

Apparently the guy had other ideas though. “I need to see the first crime scene, the room where the Triskelion pattern is.”

No fucking way. Stiles shook his head across the space between them and widened his stance. This guy was unbelievable. He couldn’t just fly across the country overnight and demand to be taken to site that was still taped up. Who the fuck did he think he was? “We have crime scene photographs, you can look at them.” Stiles said quickly dismissing the request. In fact why was he even responding this dude? “Listen, I know Detective Lahey requested your help, but at no point will you be visiting anything. All your investigations and any advice you wish to pass on will be in the presence of a member of my team, the local Sheriff or me.”  

His Dad would definitely totally up for that. Or not. Stiles mentally brushed it to one side, would deal with it later.

The guy wasn’t backing down though and his nostrils flared at Stiles aggressively. What the fuck? How was that even possible? Whose nostrils did that?

“Detective Stilinski I think it would be better-.”

This time Stiles cut him off with all the polite he could god damn well muster. “It’s Lieutenant. And this is a police investigation Mr Hale,” he said firmly. “Please honor my request.”

“Please Uncle D you haven’t…”

“Isaac I suspect I know…”

Stiles tried again. “Please listen to my Detective Mr Hale, he’s new at the job but he’s good, it’s why I chose him. He’s also a member of your family by default,” he added straightening his back so it was rigid. Take that _Professor._

The glance the guy shot him in return however actually looked like he was growling.

Ouch.

“C’mon Derek, I take you to the station so you can look at the photos.”

Finally watching them walk away Stiles blew out a puff of air. He didn’t particularly like the look Mr Hale gave his partner as he turned and walked away back to their rental, or the way he seemed to strut across the gravel surface with such arrogance sidestepping only when Lydia got in his way but there was nothing Stiles could do about it. Muttering under his breathe Stiles shook his head. What on earth was the dude’s problem? And what was this the nostrils and the eyebrows?

“Damn Stiles. Who was that feisty looking thing?” Lydia, now dressed in a county morgue shirt and leggings huddled up to his arm.

“That Dr Martin; is Professor Derek Hale.”

Her expression mirrored Stiles’ as she watched the pair climb into the car. “One of the Hale’s who own this place?”

“Apparently. My dad explained it much better than I can. Fire’s, deaths… yadda yadda.”

“So what’s he doing here?” her voice was wary, a nervousness evident.

“He’s an expert in Mythology, knows about the triskelion, he wants to see the bedroom at the hospital,” Stiles explained feeling Lydia tense at the words.

“The graffiti? You gonna let him? That place kinda creeped me out.”

“No.”

Finally she relaxed against him. “He the least of our problems anyway. I took a quick look inside the victim’s cavity when you left.”

“And…”

Stiles watched her reach inside her shirt pocket and pull out a plastic evidence bag. “I found this.”

“Is that a tooth? In the body cavity?” Stiles lifted his hand and rubbed it over his face.

“Yep. But this is no ordinary tooth Stiles,” she said with a touch of flare. “This right here is an honest to god fang…”  
   


	5. A Motherfucker of a Mini Dictator x 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The small chapter that was never in the planning.  
> Silver Foxes  
> Extensive talk of gurneys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note - I have obviously played around with some of the ages of the main characters. Deaton is now closer to the Sheriff's age. It just worked better with the overall story line.

Stiles’ hair was still damp from the shower when he heard the knock at the motel room door.

“Dude, open up, it’s me,” he heard a voice say. Scott. Stiles had been wondering when his best mate was going to appear. Thank god he was wearing more than a towel. “Are you alone?”

Alone? Stiles smirked at the word. Since leaving the crime scene earlier he’d visited the morgue, the police station then the surgery, and he was now dead on feet and ready to get some sleep not take visitors. Also who the hell did Scott think he was with? Maybe his Dad or Detective Lahey at a push, but there was hardly anyone else in Beacon Hills he wanted to speak to at 11.30pm at night.

“Good Evening Scott,” Stiles said as he pulled the door open. “And really? Alone?” Scott looked tired but then Stiles’ kind of expected that seeing as Kira had been minutes away from giving birth for over two weeks. He looked older too, more weary. He knew that the last few times they had spoken had been via Skype and late at night but still… “The baby keeping you up already?” he quipped. “Or Kira?”

Stepping to one side Stiles gestured Scott into the room.

“Dude, it’s my back.” Scott said indicating the region near the kidneys, “the baby kicks it all night. When Kira rests her bump on me, I love it you know? Makes me feel closer…but fucking hell. How she copes is beyond me.”

Stiles chuckled at his best friend. Was he a little jealous of Scott? Probably. Who wouldn’t be? But Stiles had little time for family stuff. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy for him though. “You’ve come along way bud. Just loose the potty mouth before Little McCall arrives.”

“So ’ave you from all accounts, I mean, we talk and stuff, but I never fully got it you know, your job? Do you really deal with this sort of shit every day?” Scott sounded like he was surprised.

Ignoring him, Stiles moved across the bedroom towards the paperwork he’d left there that morning. How could he answer without sounding like a complete arsehole? _Yes, I love my job, I’m the best there is, in fact the more macabre the better, someone has to do it and I don’t trust anyone else?_ He knew it all sounded big headed but _fuck it;_ it was the truth after all.

“It is what it is,” he said eventually. Play it safe right?   

Scott didn’t seem bothered by his answer though. “Your Dad called around earlier, said you were like a mini dictator at the crime scene. Literally no fucks given, which dude…total respect, always knew you'd be a hard ass, but apparently it was even more so when Alan’s important Professor Friend turned up,” he said his eyes falling on the pile paperwork Stiles had been studying.

“Arh, Mr Hale?” Stiles answered with a roll of his eyes. Behind him Scott pulled out the desk chair and flopped down onto the faux leather with a huff. Stiles smiled. If Scott had caught his dismissal of the man he didn’t comment.

“Yeah. Owns the place the second one was found? I didn’t even know that place existed.”

Stiles turned to face his friend. Plonking himself on his bed, he started to shuffle the photographs of the hospital into a neat pile.  “Me either, best kept secret in Beacon Hills eh? However, he’s my partners Isaac’s guardian, or his family where…are. _Whatever._ Now he is Professor of Mythology and Folklore in Louisiana and thinks he can help us with some graffiti.”

“The stuff in the hospital?”

Stiles nodded, slightly surprised that Scott knew, but then again he did know about the legs. Or at least Stiles thought he did. Plus if he could Lydia with this, then his best friend was definitely an in. “Yeah, listen, silly question how much has Alan let you in on this?”   

Scott snorted softly and then smiled, the grin reaching across his face. “Who do you think wrote the report you have there? Alan is getting old, he’s ready to retire and his hands shake when he uses a knife even for basic stuff, not that he’s told anyone right? I reckon its PTSD stuff, fuck knows what he saw in Afghanistan or wherever he was stationed. So I handle most of the cases now, why do you think I look so exhausted?”

Stiles sighed with relief. Of course. It made sense that Alan would bring him in on it. “I didn’t know. I still remember Alan as the guy who used to shout at us for asking too many questions.”

Leaning forward, Scott laughed again, Stiles watched him rest his elbows on his knees. “Fun times Detective Stilinski. But seriously? To answer your question, I know about the legs and know you’re gonna need my help and yes that’s some freaky shit we’ll discuss in a minute. But Mum’s on Kira duty, I’m on call so you have me till someone’s cat decides to injury itself or baby McCall makes an appearance. So shall we start with the legs because that box of paperwork you got there that looks very familiar plus my stomach is telling me I need food?”

Stiles nodded slowly, not 100% sure what had just happened. For the first time since he had returned to Beacon Hills a sense of calm had suddenly descended over him, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. His life in LA was on the edge, he traveled extensively with the role he’d carved himself but not once had he felt like some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“I missed you dude,” Stiles said calmly sagging a little in relief. Eyeing the box of research and the numerous reports he had collected over the days he turned to Scott. “I haven’t a clue where to start with this.”

“Maybe stop being a motherfucker of mini dictator x 3 for a while and come home more often right? Especially after the baby is born, because me and Kira want you all over that. But to answer your question I think we should start at the hospital, that place was once our natural habitat.”

 _Old times._ “Pizza and beer?”

“Extra Jalapenos.”

 Reaching for his cell Stiles indicated to Scott to park his ass on the spare bed and he watched his friend dropped onto the worn comforter. “I’ll order, you shift through this lot. _I think_ the hospital is key,” he said speed dialing the only pizza place in Beacon Hills he trusted. “There is heavy evidence the killer knows their stuff medically. Both victims have been left with a perfect Y incision on their chests and the crime scene last night was set up like a cubicle.”

“Like an autopsy? I bet Lydia shit a brick.”

Stiles nodded placing the order – he didn’t need to ask Scott what he wanted, the guy never strayed far from his regular order and Stiles ended the call with quick thank you to someone he probably once when to school with. “It just looked an autopsy, here; look at some of the photo’s Isaac took.” Stiles said scrolling to his photo album and finding the ones he wanted.

“Not gonna fine any dick pictures on here am I?”

“Dude… its’s my work’s phone. I don’t do that shit on there!” He hadn’t actually done that shit for ages. Probably not since Graham and bloody hell he didn’t need reminding of that clusterfuck of events.

“Jesus Christ.”

Stiles chuckled at the expression his best friends face. “I assume the picture you are looking at is the one of your legs in situ. They used a gurney to position them on.”

 “Yeah, but that gurney? The one being used? It’s not really a gurney, not a specifically a human one anyway. We use them at the surgery for the bigger animals, means we can lift them onto it easier. It’s also flatter, more space for legs and tails. We’ve got about four which we send on rotation to a company to be serviced and deep cleaned every few months. Except the last time only one came back because the other got damaged.”

Now Stiles was interested. “You’re saying this could be your missing gurney?” If it was, as far as he was concerned this could be first break they’d had. He kicked playfully at Scott leg demanding an answer.

“I’d have to see it. We mark all our equipment, Alan’s idea. I mean it would make sense considering. You know… what with all the legs and claws.”

Stiles glanced up at Scott. His friend was right and wasn’t that another thing he needed to process alongside everything else? “Well I got your report, but did you really think they were real? Human legs, wolf claws? It’s like something…”

“…Off the TV?”

“Yeah. I know there is some seriously weird stuff out there, I’ve seen a lot of it but this is unreal,” Stiles said to Scott with a nod. “Could someone change into…I mean… that’s what it looks like…” Fucking hell why was he even thinking this let alone saying it out loud? Claws, humans, wolfs and graffiti? It was all just a bit too much.

He felt visibly relieved when Scott finally handed back the phone. “Ignore me, I need more sleep.” 

Scott waved him off then pushed his body back so it rested on the wooden headboard. He winced then sighed loudly like he was pain. “No. _Shit dude_. I asked Deaton, I mean did you really think I wouldn’t ask the same? I thought I was operating on a three legged dog at first.”

“Dude, asking questions is your default setting.”

“Exactly.”

“So what did he say?”

“He said we needed to think out of the box for this and we would need help. He was completely unfazed by it all, I dunno… like he’d seen it before? It was like he knew something. Then, when your professor turned up they left the surgery and disappeared.”

 _Right._ Stiles rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. His stomach was suddenly clenching again with tension. This whole thing really was getting too much. “Anything else?”

“When they came back I got introduced, Alan said I could be trusted, that Hale should meet you, and then he left.”

 “Trusted?”

“Yep. Speaking of which, Deaton seemed to trust him but that Professor reminded me of someone.”

_Fuck._

“It was probably why he got your back up bud.”

No. “Dude, please don’t go there,” Stiles protested.

Scott wasn’t listening though. “Wasn’t your ex a professor at UCLA? Mathematics? He also had that bad ass beard hunk thing going on that you like, although Kira would describe him more as a silver fox than Hale is. Gavin, Graham, something? Didn’t you live with him when you were at the academy?”

For twelve very long months.

“You know the one. I remember your dad saying you’d taken up with someone, but you would never bring him home to visit.”

Stiles looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. It was looking like he needed to deal with this once and for all. Like he didn’t have enough on his plate. “His name was Graham he was older than me, he left me for one of his outgoing TA’s and could you imagine him sitting down to lunch with my Dad? John Stilinski would have turned up looking like Lone Ranger.” Just the mental imagery of that had Stiles swearing years ago he would never allow any of his boyfriends meet his father.

Scott was apparently unrepentant though. “I’m just saying that is all. Derek Hale is your type. Mean and moody.”

 _God all mighty._ “He’s a dick who walked onto my crime scene and made demands.”

“Fair enough, but if you think about the legs and the what Deaton said? You might well need that dick more than you think.”


	6. On the third day, look to the East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to the veterinary surgery  
> Fangs for the memories  
> Tea and Victoria Sponge
> 
> Oh and a brand new character!

When Stiles stepped outside the entrance to the motel the next morning it was still dark. If he remembered rightly Scott had finally left him at around 2am citing something about needing his own bed and that he was missing the baby doing a number on his kidneys. The next time he had looked over at the clock it read 6am.

Stifling a yawn, he pulled the zipper up on his jacket tucking it under his chin. His body wasn’t cold but the warm temperatures Beacon Hills had been experiencing had obviously dropped overnight leaving the air with a dampness he could remember waking up to on forest camp outs with Scott.

“You okay Sir?” a voice suddenly said making him jump. For whatever reason Stiles hadn’t noticed his colleague walk out the motel’s front entrance, he’d been too deep in thought…or something.

“I’m good yeah, hoping today will be quieter,” Stiles replied. He followed Isaac’s lead and headed towards the rental car as he did so. “I don’t really want there to be another body found today. Not until we’ve processed the first two anyway.”

Isaac nodded in agreement. Or at least Stiles thought he did, it was hard to see under the dim lights of the car park. 

“This morning we’ll head out the surgery, I know you were there yesterday, but I want to see the legs again and Lydia’s fang. You sleep okay?”

“Yes Sir. I think.”

 _Hmmm._ “Are sure? You look tired,” Stiles asked. Having reached the rental they were now in better lit section of the car park and Stiles could finally see the drawn tired expression his partner wore. Is that how he looked? “Did you sleep any?” _Stupid question right?_ But Isaac looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, something that he knew all about.

“A little,” Isaac answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Stiles watched him duck his head then turn towards the now rising sun. “I admit it’s all a bit overwhelming and unbelievable isn’t it really?”

_Fuck yeah it was._

“Do you believe what they said about the legs?” Isaac asked before Stiles could reply.

Stiles frowned. _Possibly._ He leaned his body against the trunk of the car then indicated for Isaac to do the same. They were in no rush this morning. Not yet anyway.

“I’ve seen some freaky shit in this job, its part and parcel of working the Major Crimes unit. I’ve seen fetishes, torture, and cruelty but _all_ this and whether I believe it? I’m not sure.”

Isaac nodded. “Derek still wants to see the bedroom at the hospital. He wants to look at the graffiti in situ. Will you let him?”

Stiles turned towards Isaac before he answered. “This is a police investigation; I can’t just let anyone walk over my crime scenes.”

Isaac nodded again in defeat. “I told him that after you had a go at him.”

Huh. “And what did he say?”

“Not much. Just swore you would need his help but he wasn’t going to go out of his way to chase you, you would eventually come to him.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Isaac’s words and shook his head in slow disbelief. The arrogance of the Hale guy was fucking astounding; even when he wasn’t about he somehow had the ability to wind him up. “Let the mountain come to Mohammed sort of thing?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Great,” Stiles replied with a huff. He was going to need to shake off the irritation and block it out before it got the better of him. Using his hands he pushed himself away from the vehicles trunk. “We better get to the surgery before Alan thinks we’ve stood him up.”

“Will be there this early?”

 Stiles huffed again, “the guys always there.”

*****

 “Good morning Detective Stilinski,” Scott’s boomed out of the intercom system filling the small entrance at the front of the surgery making both men chuckle.

The journey from the motel had been quiet and Stiles assumed it was because Isaac was attempting to process the past two days. Even he couldn’t deny it was an odd situation his partner found himself in – between a rock and a hard place was probably the best way Stiles could describe it. On one hand Isaac was law enforcement and needed to stick to the rules, procedures and all the other bullshit they needed to keep to, but on the other hand his adopted family – or whatever Isaac defined them as – where involved. Maybe he was too close Stiles thought. But then Isaac hadn’t known about the mansion either. He’d told Stiles himself his contact with their family had been in the late nineteen nineties after they had moved and then apparently, it had never been mentioned.

The buzz from the door broke Stiles’ thoughts stopping him from ruminating any further on the subject. Sure, from now on he would keep an eye on his partner but the first sign of trouble and Isaac would be out of Beacon Hills if only to stop him from doing something stupid.

But for now, Stiles needed to get his game face on.

The lock opened allowing the two men to push through the entrance into a small reception area that smelled of disinfectant and cleaning products.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles coughed. It smelled worse than a crime scene. He scanned the waiting room carefully his eyes falling to a series of posters on the wall.

“Jesus Scott, the same posters are still up,” he shouted to the area behind the reception desk. The last time Stiles had visited the place it had been with a small injured buck he and Scott demanded the previous vet fix. “Could ‘ya not have updated this shit?”

Scott responded with deep laughter, “too busy for posters, animals to save, take it up with Kira when she is less bulky, you know she runs this place better than we can,” he replied telling Stiles what he already knew - that Kira was the one in charge. “Come through, we are all in here.”

_All?_

_Well shit._ He hoped to god Scott just talking about him and Alan. Dipping his head, Stiles turned to Isaac and indicated to a closed door to the left of the reception desk that would take them through to the kennels and heart of the surgery. “This way I think,” he said with a flurry of arm movements, he could hear voices in the distance. “They’re probably in one of the theaters things they use for surgery.”

“Stiles!” he heard Scott shout as they rounded a corner at the end of a tiled corridor. “In here, doors open.”

Following his best friend’s voice they headed towards the only open door Stiles could see and the only place he could hear lots of voices coming from.

For fucks sake.

Stiles shook his head when he heard his Dad’s voice and Lydia’s too.

“Is this an invite only party, or can anyone join?” he shouted down the tiled corridor not holding back on the sarcasm. Alan had invited the whole of lacrosse team by the sounds of it and Stiles shook his head. Rounding the corner he peered into the room.

“Did you receive an invite?” A familiar voice called. _Professor Derek Hale._

Stiles ignored the man and didn’t answer; instead he used the time to scan the room. Lydia, looked like Lydia, Stiles suspected she had heels on this time. His dad looked ‘Sheriff-like’, Scott was smirking (fucker), Dr Deaton – older and Mr Hale looked hot – no wait not that…Stiles mentally kicked himself – looked annoying.

“Do I need to remind you this is a criminal investigation Dr Deaton?” he asked finally stepping inside the room. Alan was a good guy and Stiles didn’t want to fall out with him but seriously?

“Detective Stilinski I was informed last night by your partner that you were visiting us this morning to see the limbs so I therefore thought it pertinent to invite everyone who knew about them so you call could be updated at once.”

 _Right._ Stiles forced himself to calm down before he shot someone in the leg. “I was unaware Mr Hale knew about the limbs,” he said calmly. Because fucking hell.

Silence.

He was fairly certain he had been implicit in his instructions to both the Sheriff’s department, Lydia and then in turn Scott and Alan. No one outside of his immediate circle was to know, especially Professors from Louisiana.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. Maybe he should just shoot someone for the hell of it. “So does someone wanna explain? Anyone?”

Beside him Isaac was vibrating with tension whilst the rest of the room didn’t look like it was doing so good either. Alan and Derek were the only ones able to look in his direction; their chins held high in what Stiles assumed was some sort show of defiance.

Alphaholes.

“I asked Professor Hale to come in on this,” Alan said wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “You trusted me with the limbs then please trust my judgement on who I ask into assist me. I can assure you he is more than qualified to help us deal with the mess someone has brought to our town. Even you with all your experience has to admit this is mess something quite out of the ordinary Detective so rather than stand in my surgery looking as though you are about to blow maybe it’s time you were introduced properly as I believe your last meeting was a little fraught. Derek, I’d like you to meet Detective Lieutenant Mikolaj Stilinski, John’s son and lead investigator LA Homicide Department, Major Crimes Unit. ”

 _Jesus Christ, talk about a full title._ Stiles never normally spun it out like that let alone used his first name. Also…Derek…right. Stiles eyed the man carefully then forced a smile with as much energy as he could muster. _There._ He’d forgotten that the two man where old family friends. “That’s not the point. He’s still not getting anywhere near my crime scenes.”

“I don’t need too, not now anyway,” Derek said suddenly, that deep voice reverberating around the small room. Stiles suddenly wanted to shoot it too. “I’ve been sent pictures of the graffiti decorated bedroom, and I have seen the three limbs you have.”

Stiles sighed. Of course he had. Alan obviously had him on a weird stuff speed dial.

“If you are willing I can talk to you about the repeated graffiti pattern in more detail but for now I believe Alan wants to discuss the limbs a little more,” Derek continued. Stiles huffed another small sigh and shoved his hands into his pockets; fuck it if he looked like he’d been just told off by his Dad. Why did he suddenly feel like this whole investigation was getting away from him?

Beside him Isaac shifted and Stiles watched as leaned back against the tiled consulting room wall.  

“You shouldn’t have come Uncle Derek,” he heard his partner say and a small smile grew on Stiles’ face. The fact that his new partner was sticking up for him sent a little bit of warmth to Stiles tummy. “Lieutenant Stilinski is right. This is double homicide investigation, and he is the lead. It’s basically whatever he says goes. I shouldn’t have called you… it was just…”

“You’re going to need my help Isaac,” Derek interjected wearing expression on his face that Stiles couldn’t read.

For fuck’s sake. Stiles gritted his teeth. “You seem so sure of that Mr Hale, care to explain?”

The room fell silent and Stiles noticed that his Dad, Scott and Lydia, like Isaac, had their backs to the wall, and where stood as if they were bracing for impact. Even the permanent smirk on Scott’s face had disappeared.

“You could say it’s my area of expertise,” Derek answered coolly in a voice that did many things to Stiles. “What you have here is real life folklore. There have been stories of humans being able to partially shape shift into wolves either by natural ability or a forced changed for centuries. It’s a well-known fact in some circles that packs of wolves fought alongside regular troops in various conflicts, so why not now, simply living in broad daylight right under your nose.” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. Utter mumbo jumbo. Which world history books had this guy been reading? There was no mention of wolves in any of the World War 2 documentaries he watched on the Discovery Channel. Stiles almost laughed out loud in disbelief. This is what the guy actually taught? Someone could actually get a degree in this? Stiles dismissed Derek’s words with a wave of his hand. “Like in a fairy tale? Little red riding hood? Michael J Fox isn’t going to appear you know and start playing basketball at the High School.” God he loved that film.

Derek hadn’t finished though. Stiles watched as the man altered his stance before he settled back against a metal gurney. Arrogant bastard. Why was he even arguing with the dude?

“And yet Detective, all the evidence, including two statements by professionals state the legs are human, no makeup or special effects where used, and the wolf like features of the limbs are 100% real.”

“And the fang?” Because it was obvious to anyone a fang could just be a regular animal fang.

“Real. Animal.”

Stiles forced himself to look away from the guy and up at the ceiling. Hale was right of course both Scott and Alan had confirmed the remains where real… but he was seriously expected to believe it?

“Son, I think this is something else. We may need all the help we can get.” Of course it would be his dad who finally broke the silence. “You can report back to the authorities everything that could be classed as ‘normal’ the rest is for us to deal with.”

Right.

“Dude, I think your dad is right. This is…”

“Strange.”

“Freaky.”

“Unbelievable?”

“The twilight zone?”

Everyone answered at once, the sound echoing down the surgery corridor. Stiles held out his arms in attempt to calm them down. “Maybe we sound just stick to the facts first?” if he was going to do this he needed to keep it on his terms. He would just need to try and ignore the ice cold shiver that traveled down his spine fact when he heard Derek Hale suggest werewolves were real.

“Adrian Harris? He got any family?” he directed the question at his dad.

John nodded. “A sister, Isabelle Hart. Lives on the main road, east of Beacon Hills.”

That was news to Stiles. It made sense that Harris would have family close by of course but wow. The Harris he knew was devoid of all feeling and personality. The thought there might be another one out there scared him a little.

“Has she been informed?” Stiles asked, frowning.

“Last night, I went there myself.”

“And?”

“I suspect there was no love lost between the two,” John answered sounding bewildered. “She even drank a cup of tea then offered it up in celebration with me. I think if she’d of had champagne she would have cracked open the bottle.”

Wow.

“Harris had become bitter in his old age,” Alan chirped up. “He hated Beacon Hills but for some reason would never leave.”

“Don’t forget his nasty ass cat too,” Scott said. Stiles watched Alan nod in agreement. “Scratched the hell out of me once.”

Stiles needed to get this back on track. He turned to his father and then to Isaac. “She worth a visit do you think?” he needed his partner in on this as much as he could. Isaac had shown his cards and Stiles was going to hold him too it.

Isaac nodded in agreement. “She might be able to tell us a little bit about him Sir, and why he ended up on gurney at the Hale place. She might not have cared for him much but that doesn’t mean she didn’t know exactly what was going on. Old women are like that. Some out-Marple Miss Marple herself.” 

“I’d like to come.” Really? Stiles’d almost forgotten Derek Hale was in the room (ha) and had even started to relax once he’d felt like he taken back some control of this investigation.

“Not a good idea,” he replied quickly. _No fucking way._

 “Son, I think it is.”

“Your Dad’s right Stiles,” Lydia said stepping forward, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. Stiles glanced over his shoulder in her direction, just what in the hell was happening here? “The Harris family have been in Beacon Hills for years just like the Hale’s were. It might be good for Derek to meet her.”

“She’ll remember when the Hales lived here Son.”

Stiles huffed at their words, but found himself conceding. “Isaac? Do you want to lead this?”

Isaac’s gaze flicked towards the opposite side of the room before he answered. Lydia. “If its okay Sir, I’m going to stay here, then go back to crime scene now its daylight, just in case we missed anything.”

Stiles’ body sagged a little. He had to admit it was a good idea. He’d only seen the site under power the false crime scene lights; fresh eyes might spot something else. What it meant however that he was going to visit Harris’ sister with Derek.

Stiles straightened his back. He could do this, he was a big boy. Fuck it if the dude reminded him of Graham or that he had an ego the size of Texas. Stiles probably had one that was bigger.

Nodding to Isaac and taking the rental’s keys from his partner, Stiles indicated for Derek to move it with a flick of his wrist. “Isabelle Hart it is then. See you later guys.”

“Before you go Stiles? The fang? We can get DNA from it. You know? To check.”

Stiles stopped. It was worth a shot but again seriously? Even so he still kicked himself for not thinking about it sooner. “You think there’s a chance we can link it to the limbs or the first victim Lydia?

She nodded a confident yes, “a tooth is of the best sources of DNA, even after decomposition.”

“Do it then.”

“I’m already on it.”

Stiles traced his steps back to the entrance and pushed the door open and stepped out into daylight. What the hell had he got himself into? He was used to being in charge. Sure he might be considered young by some of his colleagues but he could lead an investigation with his eyes closed.

The door swung behind him seconds later and Stiles heard the sound of footsteps following him close. Striding towards the car he clenched his jaw as he felt Derek fall into step beside him.

“You don’t like me very much do you Detective?” For an opener it was good, but nope, Stiles didn’t.

“Your…. Here…. But my best friend and my dad obviously trust you so what can I do?”

Derek didn’t reply.

Stiles wasn’t finished though. He felt like he had to make it perfectly clear to Derek where he stood. “You need to remember this is a homicide investigation and I will need at some point to explain your presence in it to my superiors.”

“Arh.”

Bingo.

“They will think I’m fucking batshit crazy if I report it was because of the _‘werewolves’_. So can you see my dilemma?”

Quickly unlocking the car door, Stiles folded himself into the driver’s seat and waited as Derek did the same on the opposite side. Without saying a word he started the engine and pulled the Ford out of the car park and headed towards the main route out of Beacon Hills.

“Your father and Scott sing your praises,” Derek finally said.

If Stiles had been expecting any conversation in the car it wasn’t that topic he would have bet on. “They feel obliged,” he replied carefully. The two men where his family and Stiles expected them to say the good stuff even if he was a complete ass at times. “My dad is … well my dad, Scott is my brother from another mother.”

“Alan thinks so too. He described you as determined and focused.”

 _Jesus Christ._ Stiles hadn’t been expecting that either. “And you believe everything Alan says? He probably remembers me more as an annoying runt.”

“It’s what he says. My family trust him, I trust him, therefore what he tells me, I trust.”

Pulling up at an intersection Stiles eyed Derek closely. The fact that he was a ridiculously good guy looking was no excuse for the man’s insistent intrusion into his investigation. Add to that, the leather jacket Derek had slipped on said everything that Stiles didn’t dare think about. Hell, there was no doubt in Stiles mind that Derek owned a bike. Just what sort of Professor was this guy? 

“So tell me Mr Hale. What are you getting out of all this?

Derek opened his mouth then paused like he was trying to think of a way to reword his answer. Stiles noticed his expression was fixed on something in the distance. “I’m not sure how much Isaac said about me but this won’t be the first time I’ve helped police with an investigation,” Derek finally said. “As you know New Orleans has a history of skirting the edges of another world. And although its connection with the elements of voodoo are generally now underground – and I’m using the word generally loosely here – there are ceremonies and rituals that take place on a regular basis. It’s still a relatively active religion influenced by many other religions and people to this day make and wear amulets and charms to protect themselves from harm.”

Stiles nodded, even he was curious now. “And this is important why? Isn’t voodoo all about zombies and curses?”

“You watch too much TV. Followers believe in one god or spirits, today their focus is on healing, protection and love. Live and let live.”

“So, again, what has all this got to do with me… us… this case?”

“I have a feeling the two victims you’ve found won’t be the last.”

 “Okay,” Stiles replied nervously.

“We had a series of murders in New Orleans a number of years ago - well before you joined the police force because otherwise I suspect it would have been right up your street - where a number of bodies were found tattooed with a pattern not dissimilar to the one in your first crime scene. Each wore an amulet and had their hearts cut out.”

Holy shit. “A triskelion?”

“Yes.”

“How many bodies?”

“Three.”

Fucking hell. Stiles wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Did they catch the guy… girl… whatever?”

“They did, but person died before they could be sent to trial.”

Stiles was suddenly tired. He gripped the steering wheel harder, his nails piercing the hard rubber. “Do you think they could be linked?”

“Possibly, I’m not sure. I didn’t get passed the two detectives who came to interview me about voodoo and rituals. They visited me number of times, and then the contact stopped. In the end even name of the suspect wasn’t released, only that it was a woman.”

Stiles eyes widened. “A woman?”

“Yes.”

Before Stiles could ask anything else – and he really wanted to (maybe he could find the case online or he was fairly sure he had connections to the NOPD) -  they arrived at Isabelle Hart’s house. “Cute,” he said staring out of the window. The white wood cladded house with a wraparound porch they had pulled up alongside was set back from the road with a well-manicured lawn and flowerbed lining the pathway. “I didn’t even realise this was here,” he said undoing his seatbelt.

If Derek had heard him he didn’t answer so Stiles opened the car door and stepped out onto the street.

“It’s early, do you think she will be awake?” he asked.

“The curtains just twitched.” Derek said with a chuckle, and sure enough moments later the front door opened as they reached the first flowerbed. Before Stiles could comment an elderly silver haired lady wearing pastel colors and a smile on her face stepped out onto the wraparound porch. Isabelle Hart – if this was her - wasn’t what Stiles had been expecting but fuck it, he could play nice.

 “Isabelle Hart?” Stiles asked taking the lead.

The old lady smiled at him again and stood her ground. “That’s me. You’ve come about my brother?” she asked calmly.

“We have. Detective Lieutenant Stilinski and this is my colleague Derek Hale, who’s here in a consulting capacity,” Stiles answered, thinking quickly on his feet. Surely consulting capacity sounded professional enough for the guy right?

“You silly boys, I know who you are. John’s son, Talia and James’ son. You both better follow me.”

Without waiting for Derek’s reaction (because what the hell) Stiles strode up the remainder of the pathway and followed her into what was the neatest, tidiest, most immaculately decorated sitting room he had ever been in. At first glance it reminded him of an English county cottage with its lace and trinkets everywhere. There was even a full service tea set on the table set out for three people.

“You remember me, us?”

“Sit down boys. And yes, your dad talked about you last night. He is very proud of his son. And you Derek?” she said turning away from Stiles. “I haven’t seen you since you parents left suddenly. You haven’t changed a bit and are the image of your mother. She had those striking features too. Tea?”

 Slightly taken aback Stiles gestured to an open mouthed Derek to take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa to him. “Yes okay, erm…milk and one,” he replied hastily. He really would have preferred coffee but he would take what was on offer due to the fact he hadn’t had a drink since knocking back the shitty complimentary stuff they left the motel room.

Derek sounded more confident. “Milk, no sugar for me Mrs Hart, that’s if it’s not too much trouble.”

Stiles waited for Mrs Hart to finish serving tea – and Victoria cake of all things – before he got his notebook out. He didn’t want to seem too intrusive. “So your brother?”

Mrs Hart placed her cup on the table. “Adrian? He was never a nice boy. There was six years between us but it might as well have been another lifetime. I won’t speak ill of the dead gentlemen, but my brother had grown angrier over the years and I think it consumed him.”

Okay. Her response was exactly the same as his Dad had described it. Sort of. He suspected he was hearing it said with more venom. “So you didn’t get on then?”

“Gosh no. We didn’t. Not for a long time. I moved to England when I married my husband then returned a few years ago when he died. We had no contact for many years which is a shame but… hmmmm….” Her lips pursed together. “His body was found at the Hale place wasn’t it?”

Stiles nodded. At this point he knew there was nothing wrong in confirming the detail. It had been widely reported a body had been found at the estate. “That’s where his remains were found yes.”

“Not at the hospital then?”

Eh? Instinctively Stiles shot Derek a look across the room. Why he would ask himself later. “The hospital?”

 Mrs Hart nodded. “My brother used to sneak in there, still did - was always talking about it being haunted and that something was bad about the place. I always assumed someday he would end up getting himself killed falling off one of the landings or the building falling down.”

Stiles listened intently. As far as he was concerned that was new information. With the exception of the possible fang they had nothing to connect the two scenes. “Did he ever say what he thought was bad?”

Mrs Hart chuckled. “Detective, the whole place was bad. It was an asylum for the criminally insane. When I worked ther-.”

“You worked there?” Derek asked before Stiles could get the words out.

“Yes, I was a nurse.”

“A nurse?”

“Mr Hale, There were there three regular nurses on South Ward, and various orderlies we stuck together like glue. Me, Louise Cassidy and Grace Fletcher. Although Grace did keep herself to herself more towards the end.” Stiles noticed the last part she said through pursed lips.

“You worked on South Ward?” The ward the body was found on? Stiles couldn’t believe it. His fingers clenched at the notepad tightly. This was…

“Of course I did. You didn’t know?”

Derek answered quickly. “No.”

“That’s surprises me, although I suspect patient confidentiality would still remain in place,” Isabelle Hart said before taking a sip of tea.

The comment confused Stiles a little and he marked a star on his notepad. Patient confidentiality? “What do you mean? Confidentiality? This is a criminal investigation, if it’s important to the case, then you should tell us” he asked.

“Peter Hale was there, at the hospital, did you not know?”

“As a patient?”

“Working?”

Both men spoke at the same time.

Isabelle Hart answered them quickly. “Oh my, yes Peter Hale was a patient. He was perfectly pleasant to me – a very clever man – knew everything about art and music - but some of the other nurses didn’t get on so well with him,” she answered before pausing. “But oh dear, judging by your faces, I feel I may have said too much.”

Stiles looked up from his crumpled notebook, “no please Mrs Hart do go on. Can you say anymore.”

“Oh dear. I’m so so sorry Derek.” Isabelle Hart shook her head, she reached across the gap for Derek's hand. “He was admitted because he murdered your sister.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had been planned as chapter 5 but Scott get noisy.  
> Note: I did research the voodoo/hoodoo as much as I could. If I've made any mistakes my apologies.


	7. Round 3 to the Man Dressed in Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the anger  
> A phone call  
> A funny looking wound on the 2nd victim.  
> Bodily contact
> 
> Thank god I'm making notes. I don't think I've written anything so complex before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note at the start, I briefly describe some historical practices that where used in Psychiatric Hospitals many many years go in this chapter. Nothing to graphic but thought it was worth mentioning.

“So let me guess, all of that…was new information to you?” Stiles shouted, pointing back towards Isabelle Hart’s house with outstretched thumb. Derek Hale was quickly retreating away from the small one storey building so fast Stiles could hardly keep up with him. “Well?” 

Derek turned and Stiles could see signs of tension visibly scorched across the man’s forehead. The guy looked angry, scared and like he could punch someone and Stiles couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not.

Apparently disclosing the information about Peter Hale had been cathartic for Isabelle Hart, and they had spent the last hour listening to her stories of life in the asylum. Stiles asked questions as he always did, and could have stayed there another hour, but Derek Hale on the other hand, looked like he wanted to curl up into a ball and hide behind one of her throw cushions.

In fact by the end of it Derek Hale looked like he’d been sucker punched.

Twice.  

“If you mean about my Uncle being committed? Then no. If you mean about him being committed to a hospital in Beacon Hills for murdering my sister? Then yes.” Derek replied sharply, the anger swirling wildly in his eyes.

 “Arh.” So it was new information and this made Stiles’ spidey senses tingle with wild abandon.  What the hell was Peter Hale doing now, and was he doing it anywhere near Beacon Hills?

“That doesn’t mean he murdered Laura.”

Stiles sighed. Derek was beginning to sound more frustrated than angry and it worried him a little. Was he going to flip out? Mentally stepping back from the guy Stiles dropped his tone. “According to Isabelle Hart he did, and let’s face it Mr Hale, she had access to his records and nursed him during his time there. She would have known exactly why he was locked up.” Stiles said as they reached the rental car. His words probably weren’t the right thing to say to calm the man down but-.

“He didn’t murder Laura. She was killed by-.”

Stiles interjected before Derek could go any further. “Mountain lions? Yeah, so my dad said, but apparently not eh? It’s something I need to ask him about when I get back.”

Derek frowned as he grabbed for the door handle of the car. After a few seconds of staring into space he sighed heavily and turned to face Stiles. The tension was still etched across his face but even with a face like thunder Stiles couldn’t believe how ridiculously good looking the man was.

Opening the door wide he slid into the leather seat.

“It was an animal attack yes.”

_Right._

Stiles closed the car door behind himself and waited a moment for Derek to do the same.  “I’ll drop you off at the motel.” he said turning the key. The engine started with a growl. “I suspect you want to speak to people.”

Pulling away from the curbside, Stiles looked in the rear view mirror and back to the road. The last few hours had been some the strangest he had ever experienced. Isabelle Hart had described working at the hospital as some sort of holiday which went totally against the all the stories he and Scott had read and researched. Instead she had spoken about days out, picnics and singalongs. It was fun stuff not what he had been expecting at all. Stiles was even more surprised when she had described South Ward in half decent light too, going as far as to say people had requested to work there.

Stiles shook his head slowly.

None of it made sense. Everything he had heard in the last few hours was the complete opposite of what he believed he knew about the place. Had he and Scott been that off the mark? All the evidence had pointed to the place being hell on earth. Stories of lobotomies being performed, patients being shackled to theirs beds, and shock treatments being prescribed had all been recorded.     

“I’m coming back to the surgery with you.” Derek said suddenly interrupting Stiles’ ruminations. “The person I need to speak to is there.”

Stiles sighed heavily. A large part of him wanted to say no and simply take him back to the motel but he arguing with him might add fuel to the burning pyre of emotional that was Professor Derek Hale. “Alan?”

 “Yeah. I think I need to speak to my parents too.” Derek replied, taking a cell phone out of his jacket pocket.

“You think they will tell you the truth?” Stiles asked watching as Derek scrolled through his contacts. He tutted as he found his gaze drifting to Derek’s moving hands. He’d always been a hand man, always. Especially powerful veiny ones just like the man next to him owned. 

Whoever answered did so quickly though, thankfully stopping Stiles’ ministrations. He doubted he could have concentrated with Derek’s voice booming out anyway.  “Mom, its Derek… yeah I’m okay… of course I’ve eaten today… Dad okay….? Right… tell him I will call him later… listen, I’m in Beacon Hills… I’m with Alan Deaton.” Derek glanced over to Stiles. “Listen Mom, there’s been an incident at the estate, a body was found in the attic room, there’s some other stuff too, but mostly they think it’s connected to the hospital because something happened in one of the bedrooms there.”

Something? Stiles snorted a laugh.

Derek ignored him. “The thing is Mom? Peter’s been brought up. One of the bodies is loosely connected to a nurse who worked there. I’ve just left her house.”

Stiles could just about hear Derek’s Mom at other end of the phone but the words where too muffled. It sounded like she was shouting at someone else to join the conversation.

“Tell Dad to pick up the other phone,” Derek demanded. “Did you hear what Mom said? ....And how long was he in there?

Apparently there was no messing about with the Hale family, straight to the point and all that. It was the complete opposite to his and his Dad’s phone calls. They could sometimes go on forever without anything much really being said.

“So not long then… no… she said… yeah it was a female nurse… Isabelle…Isabelle…erm...”

“Hart,” Stiles interjected. 

Derek nodded a thank you in return. “Isabelle Hart mom… no she didn’t mention anyone else. You do you realise you’re going to need to tell me the truth don’t you? Do you know where he is now? …No? ….He disappeared?”

Derek’s reply sucked the air out of Stiles lungs. “Holy shit, he’s disappeared?” Stiles said under his breathe. If Peter Hale had a forensic history, and was now missing…then…?

“And you’re sure? Right… Mom, I will call you back later.”

Stiles’ bones felt like they were vibrating as Derek ended the call. “He’s missing? For how long? Do they know when he was last seen? Is he in Beacon Hills?” He had many so questions, so many.

 But Derek ignored them all. “We need to get back to the surgery.”

****

 

“Dad I need to speak to you,” Stiles announced as he walked back into the main surgery. The theater was pretty much as they had left it, but only now Isaac, Lydia, Scott and his dad were stood around the metal table, with paperwork littering every surface. Alan had probably walked out of there the moment they had returned and Stiles had no doubt a phone conversation with Talia Hale had taken place.

“Son’s wrong? Was everything okay at Isabelle Harts? Is Derek okay?” John gestured toward the empty space next to Stiles where Derek should have been stood.

“Yep, Derek has had a bit of a shock,” Stiles answered, rubbing the back his neck with his hand. After Derek’s little demand they return to the surgery together the drive back had been quiet but Stiles had watched the man’s expression grow fiercer until he thought he had heard a growl.

“Well go on dude, spill.”

Stiles took a deep breath and scanned the room. His dad was watching him through narrowed eyes. _Yes, I have questions for you,_ he said to himself, throwing John a scowl across the room…But first?

“Does anyone know anything about Peter Hale?” Stiles blurted. “Isaac?”

He knew Isaac was probably his best shot, surely the detective had heard the name being mentioned by members of the Hale family at some point.

“As in Derek’s uncle?” answered John. “And what do you mean by _anything_?”

“Dad, how was Laura Hale killed?” Stiles asked. At some point during the drive back to the veterinary surgery it had dawned on Stiles that his investigation had to be linked to Laura’s death, he just didn’t know how. “Dad?”

John replied immediately, his face now flushed with tension. “It was an animal attack son.”

Stiles shook his head. “Are you sure Dad? Because earlier Isabelle Hart has just informed us Peter Hale was responsible.”

“Son… I… you… it’s been a long time.” John replied. The words sounding broken and hurried.

“I’m gonna need to see the case file Dad.”

“I can’t… we…it’s…”

Stiles tried to ignore the panicked look on his Dad’s face. He knew he was right to push the issue irrespective of the consequences. The three Beacon Hills deaths were linked; there might have been over twenty five years between them but there was no doubt in his mind. “Take Scott with you, I need to speak autopsy with Lydia and Isaac.”

Stiles waited for two of his favourite people to walk out of the room before he closed the door. He hated to block them both out but if anyone could get his Dad to talk, his best friend was the person. Finally, he turned to the two people now stood facing him.  “So talk to me. Tell me everything you know about how our two victims died,” he said as the door clicked shut.

With a frustrated sigh, Lydia spoke first, “Right, well, our first victim, Matthew Daehler was killed with sharp object straight to the heart, he died instantly, and his body was mutilated after. I found a definite entry site just by the Y incision. It looks like the person who did this tried to hide it with the stitching - which incidentally, is practically perfect in every way. The torso was then gutted and emptied, the legs removed at the thigh. This, I believe was also undertaken post death.”

“Time of death?”

“I’d say the body had been in situ at the crime scene for at least 24 hours with an estimated time of death judging by the rate of decomposition, as at least twelve hours prior to that.”

Stiles’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “So three or four days ago?” That was not what he had been expecting.

“Yes.”

“And what about Adrian Harris?” This time Stiles directed the question at Isaac and watched as a bright smile filled his partner face.

_How about that?_

“He died instantly of a blunt force trauma to the head. Lacerated liver, bruising to main torso, one leg had been removed. Mr Harris’ torso was partially empty, hence the reason we know the liver was lacerated. In addition to this – and as you are aware – Lydia also found a tooth in the body, this was located next the liver.”

“Have we matched any of the legs we found at the hospital to Adrian Harris?”

“That’s next on my list,” Lydia replied.

Stiles sighed heavily, his shoulders heaving slowly. “The crime scene at the Hale place was something else. Have you had chance to visit it Isaac? What did you think?”

Isaac briefly nodded at Stiles before consulting his notes. “The clean-up has started; the sheriff – your dad – has used his own deputies…A Deputy Parish in fact, to guard the site.”

Stiles huffed at the information. He wasn’t really pleased to hear his dad had posted someone he didn’t know at the crime scene but if John Stilinski trusted him… “Did you observe anything that I missed when you went?”

“I did,” Isaac said as his face flushed with red. “We were just discussing it when you and Derek returned.”

“Okay.”

“I also took some photos of the crime scene for us whilst it was in daylight, when I returned back here Scott put them on the big screen and we noticed something in the corner of the room that was missed last night,” Isaac replied, grabbing a remote off the table. He pointed it at the wall and pressed a button.

Stiles watched as the screen flickered on and an image filled the space. The photo wasn’t of great quality even by Isaac’s standards, but it now showed Stiles what the attic looked like in daylight. And Christ, the place was massive. Stiles could see the area almost covered the top floor of the building.  

“Look in the corner Sir, by the window.”

Stiles squinted as the image came into focus. No fucking way. Was that? The pattern was faint but... “Is that…? Can you zoom in?”

“The same pattern as in the hospital? The triskelion? Yes.”

“Holy shit Detective. I think we found another link.” Relief flooded Stiles body. He felt it sag against the blue departmental issue waterproof jacket.

“We have.”

“We’ve got something else too Stilinski.”

“Yeah?” Stiles answered. He turned slowly to face Lydia.

“Remember I said the injuries to Adrian Harris’ skull looked strange?”

Stiles did and nodded his head in agreement.

“Well look at these photos’ we took. I measured the trauma points as I always do and noticed the pattern that had been made was really precise. Whatever did this wasn’t just a hammer or a crowbar, this was something quite specific. If you look at the design it reminds me of a ladder but it can’t be.”

Stiles scrolled through the photo’s on Lydia's tablet. The indentations the unknown weapon had caused looked millimeter perfect. “Any ideas?” Because he sure as shit didn’t.

“No, but I know someone who might, remember Erica Reyes?”

“I do.” A whole year of Stiles high school life had been wasted on the woman before he realized he had other options.

“She’s a forensic scientist now and she loves this sort of shit.”

He snorted loudly. Fucking hell, _anyone else?_ “Really? Like Abby Sciuto, NCIS forensic scientist?” He’d always kind of wondered what had happened to her.

“Yes, but with less eyeliner. She’s fucking awesome Stiles, works for the FBI, but I reckon she’d be up for helping us.”

Stiles took a deep a breath. Could he really have someone else ‘in’ on this investigation too? Another ex-Beacon Hills High Schooler? “She any good at searching for missing people?”

 Lydia answered quickly. Too quickly. “Stiles, if you want the best to work with the best, she’s the best.”

For fucks sake. A wry smile crossed his face. “Well if you say it like that Dr Martin.”

“You won’t regret this Stiles, I promise.” Lydia replied with a laugh.

“I better not.”

Without warning Lydia skipped out of the room, her heels clicking against the tiles as she went where ever she needed to go to call Erica. “It just gets worse and worse,” Stiles mused. Something told him that Erica would jump at the chance to remind him of his little unrequited crush on her, a fact he wasn’t really looking forward too.

Rubbing his eyes with his left hand Stiles suddenly felt very tired. He wanted to curl up in bed and sleep but he couldn’t. He needed to speak to his dad, talk again to Derek (a fact that filled his stomach with a strange tension) and at some point read up on Laura Hale’s homicide.

Speaking of which. “Did Isabelle Hart really say that Peter killed Laura?” Stiles heard Isaac ask.

“She did.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know what to think.” He replied rubbing the same hand roughly through his hair. “My Dad says she was killed by during animal attack, Derek agrees with that, Isabelle Hart on the other hand suggests that Peter was committed to the asylum because he did it.”

“Who do you believe?”

Stiles shrugged. He could feel Isaac studying him closely like he was waiting for the answer to a question that had been on the tip of _his_ tongue for the last few hours. In truth Stiles didn’t have a clue about any of it. From the two most recent deaths, to one that had happened before he had been born, nothing simply made sense – especially the whole werewolf thing they had going on.

“I think we need to find Peter Hale first.” Stiles said with a small yawn.

“He’s missing?”

“Apparently your guardian’s have lost track of him.”

“Does Derek know?”

Stiles nodded a yes as he remembered the phone call Derek had made in the car. “He does. He called them on the drive back.”

“Okay.”

“Till then, I think we need to acknowledge that Peter Hale could be a suspect.”

Before Isaac could answer the door was forcefully flung open to the room knocking Stiles out of the way. “Whoa dude!” he cried as he felt himself fall backwards. His eyes widened further when he felt Derek Hale slam him up against the tiled wall with a hard push.

“Ooooof!” the force of the shove felt like it had winded him.

“My uncle is not a murderer!” Derek growled.

Holy shit. No way. Stiles attempted to push back against Derek’s chest and panicked when nothing happened. Sucking in a lung full of air he tried again. Nothing. Stiles wasn’t completely out of shape but the immovable force in front of him wasn’t going anywhere. Placing his hands on Derek’s chest he gritted his teeth as Derek easily held him back. Surely there was no fucking way that the man could be so strong.

Stiles pushed hard again suddenly realizing he could feel Derek’s fingernails through the thin material of his jacket. What the fuck?

“You wanna get off me Professor?” Stiles grunted. Derek’s face was now inches from his, his gaze fixed on Stiles. “Professor?” Stiles growled back in return. He reckoned could almost nip at the end of Derek’s nose with his teeth if he so wanted. In fact, even better, if Stiles could just reach his gun he’d be able to wipe the – what the fuck? Stiles’ breath caught sharply as he caught Derek’s gaze again.

Holy fuck!

Had Derek’s eyes just glowed red?

“Derek, please need to calm down, I’m sure Detective Stilinski was merely making a casual observation.” Judging by the calm tone Alan Deaton had followed Derek into the room because that was definitely not Isaac’s voice Stiles had heard.

 _Also? Casual observation? Really?_ “Back the fuck off.” Stiles ground out, he thought he caught another flash of red in Derek’s eyes as he did so. What in the hell was all that about?

“My uncle is not a killer. Point your investigations in another direction.”

Stiles snorted at the words. “There is no doubt in my mind that your uncle has a forensic medical history, I have two dead bodies and he is missing. So I will direct this investigation in whichever direct I see fit. Now let go of me before I arrest your ass for assault.”

As Stiles’ words Derek pulled back as quickly as he pushed against him, his eyes still glowing red. _Yeah dude. Down boy._

“Derek, please calm down.” Alan begged.

“Uncle Derek!”

Stiles locked his gaze on Derek once more. Ignoring the two clenched fists at his sides he wondered how he’d been able let Derek get so close. Sure the guy had the moves and the speed to match. But if it meant Stiles pushing to the back of his brain the feel of Derek’s body against his, he swore that he’d never let the man get one over him again. “Calm the fuck down Professor. Sort your shit out. Now!”

Derek’s expression was still angry as he finally pushed away from Stiles and moved to the center of the room.

“You done?” Stiles asked, brushing the front of his jacket down. “Because don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

_Not without my permission anyway._

Behind them, Isaac nervously shifted. “Uncle Derek… are you okay?” he heard his partner say.

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off Derek though. He pinned him with a hard stare. The man seemed to be struggling to calm down; his whole body was still shaking with rage his face red to match his eyes.

“I think your Uncle Derek needs some time out,” Stiles shot back. It wasn’t directed at Isaac but knew he would need to apologize to his partner later. “I suggest taking him back to the motel for a while.”

Nodding, Isaac walked around the metal examining table and placed a hand on Derek’s elbow. Stiles watched Derek flinch at the contact.

“Maybe something to eat too,” Stiles added with a cough.

Moving to one side Stiles allowed the two men to exit the room. He was used to confrontation of some sort, but this wasn’t some sort of internal departmental battle or some drugged up kid, this was a man unable to control his anger.

Folding his arms in front of him, Stiles turned towards a nervous looking Alan Deaton. Everything he wanted to ask the man, he knew he couldn’t, not yet anyway. But Stiles was 100% sure the local vet knew more than he was letting on.

“You have a very strange effect on Derek, Detective Stilinski,” Alan mused. “You both are each other’s flash points. It is obvious to the casual observer you do not want him here, yet… and I shall chose my words carefully – I think you are going to need him.”

Stiles almost laughed out loud. “Okay sure, he intrigues me,” Stiles confessed, wondering how far Alan was going to dig. “I don’t understand his reaction to my decision to look for Peter Hale given the alleged history. But yes you are right, we clash. It happens.”

Alan nodded at Stiles, before turning to the TV screen. “You look like a man who needs to ask a lot of questions. Is that the attic where Adrian Harris was found?” Alan asked gesturing towards the photo.

Stiles nodded his head. “It is.”

“The same pattern has been replicated at both crime scenes.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Detective Stilinski, can I give you some advice?”

“If you must.”

“It may be worthwhile speaking to Talia Hale, she should be able to help out with any questions you have about her brother, her son and circumstances surrounding the death of her daughter?”

_Huh?_

_Really?_

Stiles felt his heart go bump against his chest. It was not what he had expected Alan to say next that was for sure. Maybe a bollocking for getting all up in Derek’s face had been on the cards, but this? “Ring Talia Hale?”

“Yes.”

_Right._

He could do that he thought. It was his job after all.

Slowly Stiles made his way across the room until he was stood next to Alan. “Do you know who lived in the attic?” he asked casually. Scanning the enlarged photo Stiles could see that the daylight the derelict and fire damaged space looked like it had once been in habited. “It looks like someone lived there.”

Alan answered slowly. “I really think Talia is the best person to ask.”

“Of course.” Stiles replied, mentally kicking his own backside.  “It would be good to find out though,” he added before turning to face Alan. “But then again, Dr Deaton, I think you already know.”

“And I, Detective Stilinski, think you do too.


	8. A Triple shot of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls  
> Crime scene photos  
> Burger and curly fries to the rescue  
> Woof

Stiles twisted the piece of paper containing Talia Hale’s phone number between his fingers. Ringing Talia Hale had not been on his list of things to do, but Alan had had a point, the idea made perfect sense. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind she would know if Peter Hale had been incarcerated elsewhere but faced with the prospect of actually dialing the numbers sent a shiver down his spine.

“Sir? You okay?” Isaac said his voice filled the small conference room Stiles had commandeered earlier that day. He looked up to find his partner’s head poking around the door. “It’s late.”

Stiles sighed and glanced up at the clock on the wall. 9.30pm! Had he really been hiding out that long? The last thing he remembered was his dad passing him a mug of strong black coffee and the case notes for Laura Hale’s death without comment. Then he’d simply taken the box, placed it on the desk and watched his dad stalk back down the corridor and into one of the interview rooms.

Stiles sighed again, pulling his mind back to Isaac who was suddenly hovering over him like a concerned parent. “I’ve been reading the crime scene report from Laura’s death,” Stiles said pointing to a pile of paperwork. He didn’t want to share with Isaac just yet that he’d spent the last hour sparing at a piece of paper.

“Thought as much, it looked like you were a million miles away.”

“It was a fucking bloodbath. She was literally torn to pieces,” Stiles said without thinking.

Isaac’s gasp filled the room.  “Pppardon?”

_Shit._

“What I mean is… _shit_ …Christ I’m sorry Isaac.” Stiles said slowly backtracking. Him and his big mouth. He _really_ needed to get some sleep or he was going really piss someone off if he wasn’t careful. “I forget she is family.”

Stiles looked at his partner. The man looked like he wanted to burst into tears. _Shit_. Maybe he was too close to the case Stiles thought. Then again... “Listen Isaac…” Stiles started to say.

Isaac cut him off quickly, his voice loud. “No… sorry Sir,” he replied shakily. Stiles watched him twist his fingers until the knuckles turned white. “In all honesty… I didn’t know Laura. I never met her; she was just another person in family photos. What I learned about her came from Derek. Talia and James never mentioned her.”

“Okay.”

“They were close.”

Stiles nodded. He knew that. “Records show there was three years between them.”

“Her death hit him the hardest.”

Stiles could imagine. Well he thought he could, he had no brothers or sisters to compare it to. But if the same thing was to happen to Scott, Stiles didn’t want to even think about how he’d react. “Yeah, I get it,” he said somberly.

“Do you think it was an animal attack?”

Stiles sucked in a shaky breathe and looked down at the photo again. Did he? The 1987 crime scene photos weren’t the greatest, but he’d probably have reached the same conclusion given the state Laura’s body had been left. “Do you want to have a look?”

Isaac nodded, walked around the conference room desk and stopped next the chair on Stiles’ left. “Are they her..?” Isaac asked pointing a finger at the photo Stiles had pushed in front of him. “She’s been cut in half.”

Stiles ignored the gasp that followed and nodded. “Like I said…”

“Fucking hell.”

“Indeed.”

For a few moments there was silence as both men studied the few photos his dad had been able to locate.

“It’s almost as bad as our second vics’ crime scene, the only thing that separates them is that this looks frenzied, and ours are more staged,” Isaac said as he bent down to take a closer look at one of the photographs.

Stiles wasn’t going to disagree with his partner. “This was a frenzied attack on a ten year old girl. Looking at the photographs the only explanation for it could be an animal attack. Whoever… whatever did this?” Stiles declared. He would need to choose his next words carefully. “Had absolutely no control.”

Still bent over, Isaac huffed in the direction of the conference desk. “I think you’re right Sir,” he said with a pause. “But do you really think Peter Hale could have done all _this_ to his niece? Because honestly? I’m not so sure.”

Stiles pushed out a lung full of air. Christ. The same thing had been bugging him too. Whoever had murdered Laura Hale would have been covered in blood. There was no way Peter could have slipped back into the house without being noticed.

It was looking like he was going to have to speak Talia Hale sooner rather than later. Dipping his head and looked at the piece of paper he was still holding. “I don’t know Isaac,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we need to talk to someone who was there.”

Isaac stood up quickly and swung his body round to face Stiles, his eyes wide like saucepan lids. “Like Derek!?”

Stiles chuckled. Fuck no. “I think we need to leave Derek for a while. No offence because I know he is your cousin, but he….” _Smells good, can work a leather jacket, is one of the most annoying mother fuckers Stiles had ever met?_ “…never mind… I meant someone more like Talia Hale.”

“Okay… that’s interesting.”

“Hmmm?”

“It’s just that Alan Deaton said the same thing to me.”

“Oh right.”

“You think I should call her?”

Stiles nodded his head faster than he had ever done before whilst screwing up a piece of paper. He was a multitasking fool. “That would be a good idea I think,” he said as casually as he could. Act cool Stilinski. “You wanna leave me here to sort through all this?”

Isaac nodded and Stiles watched as he began to back out of the room slowly.

“You’ll be okay with me calling her. This is your investigation after all?” his partner asked. He was sporting the most serious looking expression Stiles had ever seen and he’d seen more than enough over the years from his dad.

“Go fill your boots Lahey… I trust you.” Stiles said with a raised eyebrow. Thank fuck for enthusiastic detectives with family ties. Why on earth he hadn’t thought of asking Isaac to speak the family sooner was anyone’s guess? All that time wasted worrying about nothing – Talia Hale would be happier speaking to someone she knew surely?  “Ask about Peter to yeah? Find out where he is, find out where he was when Laura was found,” Stiles continued with a yell.

_He had all the best ideas right?_

***

The next few hours passed in a haze for Stiles. He alternated between sitting and standing until his feet hurt until he realized that all he was doing was pushing the same three sets of crime scene photos around in the hope something would jump out at him.

“God damn it,” he cursed with a wide yawn. He had nothing. Not a thing. Looking at the desk he sighed as he clocked more photos he hadn’t even got around to looking at. After the conversation with Isaac (strangely Stiles still hadn’t heard back from the man), Stiles had swung around to the motel room, grabbed a triple shot coffee and his and Scott’s research and brought it back to the station where half of it was now spread across the desk of the empty conference room they’d taken over.

However staring at all the information was beginning to make Stiles frustrated and overwhelmed. In fact the only thing that had stood out to him after staring at it for over an hour was the fact their two crime scene photo’s showed small similarities. The metal gurney’s – one of which Alan confirmed, had definitely been property of the animal clinic's – were strikingly alike. Then, there was the victims. In addition to the fact that the two torso’s had been laid out in the same position, Lydia had also confirmed that the material used to stitch up the large Y incision was made of the same material, but the DNA samples taken from both from the fang and the third leg, matched neither victim.

Hearing that last snippet of information had pissed Stiles off a little and he hit out verbally at his dad a second time when he came to check on him. Yes, it confirmed there was a third body somewhere yet to be discovered, something that Stiles had been dreading – but also because he wanted his dad as far away from Beacon Hill’s as he could get him.

He did not want his Dad to be the fourth.

In fact didn’t want anyone to be the fourth.

Not on his watch anyway.

Taking a deep breath Stiles looked down at the covered desk. After Isaac had left he’d sorted out the information into small piles, hospital, Hale Mansion, victim one, victim two. He also made a start an temporary incident board on one of the walls until his stomach had started to grumble.

“Son?”

Jumping, Stiles looked in the direction the voice was coming from to find an exhausted looking John with one foot firmly in the room, holding a white paper bag.

“Hey dad,” a smile filled his face at the sight.

“Peace offering?”

Stiles laughed shakily thankful his dad didn’t sound angry with him. His eyes then drifted to the white bag. “Is that a burger and curly fries from Burger Hills?” he asked hungrily. Fucking hell talk about blast from the past, he missed that place.  

“It is, called on the way home from a RTA. I thought you could do with a refueling. Do you know it’s well past midnight?” John answered, placing the takeout on the desk.

Stiles glanced at the wall clock, he hadn’t noticed anything and didn’t answer. The food smelt wonderful and that was more than enough. He quickly emptied the contents and bit into the burger without taking a breath.

“RTA?” Stiles asked a minute later his mouth full. Christ on a bike, he hadn’t dealt with an RTA for years. What would it be like to deal with something normal?  Stiles snorted at the idea.

 John ignored him. “Way out on the Commerce Way, it been raining so…”

Stiles frowned taking another bite of the burger. It was just as good he remembered. “Bad?” he asked calmly. If inquiring about an accident helped build a small bridge between them then he could ask the right questions.

“So, so. Two cars… One was Bobby Finstock? Remember him?”

“Jesus Christ yeah, he okay?” A flashback of being cursed at across a locker room field filled Stiles’ brain. The man had been a complete sadist.

“He’s okay. His vehicles’ a write off though because took the brunt of it. He said he swerved to miss the other car involved and hit a tree. He was lucky, they were lucky; it was a beauty of a classic car.”

Classic car? If Stiles remembered rightly Coach Finstock liked his modern muscle vehicles. He liked power, noise and a leather jacket. He and Derek Hale would get on just fine Stiles suspected. Not that he knew what Derek Hale drove; but judging by the argumentative bastard aura the guy gave off... “Coach Bobby Finstock won’t be happy that he’s written off one of his classics,” Stiles stated interrupting his own thoughts. He really needed to stop thinking about the angry professor.

And his leather jacket.

John causally shook his head in reply. “Nope, he was in a Toyota; the classic belonged to the other party involved, a blue 1968 General Motors Chevelle; beautiful car, haven’t seen one for years.”

“He was lucky. I bet the insurance pay out on that would have been massive,” Stiles said with a low whistle. “Any damage on it?”

John shrugged. “Not that I could see. Maybe a small dent if anything, but the driver didn’t seem that bothered either. Her passenger had a cut to his forehead but both declined the emergency services getting involved. Said they were passing through on their way to San Francisco. It was no one’s fault so I took their details and let them go.”

“Really?” Stiles sounded surprised. In LA it probably would have ended with a shootout. The last RTA he had dealt with had anyway.

“Yes.”

For several moments silence filled the room as Stiles cleared off the fries and burger. Finally he screwed up the paper bag and threw it into the waste bin beside him. “Listen Dad, I…”

John waved a hand to stop Stiles continuing. “No son, don’t apologize to me. This case is draining up all your energy… hell its draining everyone’s energy – I’ve never seen Alan looking so exhausted – it’s to be expected, I get it.”

“Dad, it’s just…”

“Listen Stiles,” John leaned forward until his elbows rested on the desk. His body looked as worn out as Stiles’. “As you can see, Laura Hales’ death was a heart breaker to work. The Hale family where well respected and owned a large number of properties and land in Beacon Hills and her death changed all that. As far as I know and I’m going to stick to this theory, she was killed by animal attack. Her body was savaged and ripped apart.”

“And Peter Hale?”

“If you read the report you will see Peter found the body.”

“He did?” Okay. That _was_ new information, Stiles hadn’t got that far, too distracted by gurneys and legs if he was honest. But if that was the case, it was even more important someone spoke to Talia now. Reaching for his cell he quickly shot off a text to Isaac reminding him to ask about Peter.

“Yeah. So when you reported that Isabelle Hart said he’d been a patient at the hospital a lot of stuff made sense. Finding your niece’s savaged body would send anyone crazy.”

Stiles frowned. This whole investigation was becoming more confusing by the day. “But Dad, Isabelle said he was the one to cause her death. It would have been in his hospital notes surely?”

John blew out a puff of air. Stiles could see his Dad was getting frustrated with him but for whatever reason Stiles knew he needed to know.

“The report says animal attack; you can see from the photos yourself Stiles it was frenzied. Yes, Peter Hale was a strange kid, he spent a lot of his time in the forest, disappearing for days on end missing school but he would always come back and pass his exams something that pissed me off no end. But he wasn’t a murderer; he didn’t kill his own niece.”

Shit. That was…. His dad sounded so sure. Stiles rubbed his hand over his face. “He still could be a suspect Dad. We don’t know where he is. Plus there is the strange stuff going on with the claws and the fang…” _Shit._

“Listen son, Laura’s death changed everyone. It changed Beacon Hills.”

“Okay…”

“I think you’re gonna need to think outside of the evidence box on this one.”

“I…”

“And try and be nice to Derek Hale as you do it, the guys had rough few days.”

 Stiles huffed at that. In his opinion Derek Hale was an educated man, if he was aware Peter Hale had admitted to a psychiatric hospital at some point in his life then Derek should be able to work out the rest. “I’m not ruling out Peter Hale,” Stiles said firmly. “I would like to see the report on why he was committed first though.” Maybe, it could shed some light on it.

John’s eyes widened. “Do you think they will still have it?”

Stiles nodded. “Lydia has got Erica Reyes on the job. Apparently she can find anything. If Peter Hale did stay at another hospital then his records will still be on file.”

John chuckled, pulling one of the conference room chairs out and sat down with a thud. “Yeah, Lydia said that she had passed some stuff over to Erica.”

Stiles tutted, apparently he was obviously the last to know anything around here. “I’m amazed I hadn’t heard she was working for the FBI before now.”

“I believe she likes to keep on the down low… Jesus son,” Stiles watched as his father’s eyes flicked towards the crime scene photos. The one of the Hale Mansion was top of the pile. “Remind me again why you do this job?”

Stiles leaned across the table and grabbed the photo of the top of the pile. He could see that the flash from the digital camera had lit up the scene so brightly the blood splatter looked like it was going to drip off the page. Shuddering at the thought Stiles quickly put the photo down.

 “Would it be wrong to say I enjoy it? Because I kind of do. It’s a challenge,” he calmly admitted. John looked appalled. “I haven’t seen dealt with an RTA or a burglary for over two years, not unless a body is discovered of course and even then I deal with the more… unusual.”

John pointed towards the large pile of stacked photos, his expression looked worn. “Like this?”

Stiles hesitated before he answered. “Yeah, like this.”

His dad didn’t look pacified in the slightest though. “Do you sleep okay? I worry,” he asked.

“I do okay, I get enough… but I get to watch a lot of late night TV to,” Stiles answered with a frown. He couldn’t help but lie. He could count on one hand the nights he had gotten a full seven hours. “This investigation ranks up there with the strangest I’ve dealt with though.”

“Yeah…”

“It’s…”

“Different?”

“That’s not the word I would use. What Derek Hale is suggesting is that all those myths and legends are real. Men and women can turn into werewolves? No fucking way,” Stiles barked. It was one thing to teach this shit – or whatever the guy did in New Orleans – but for it to be real? “I can’t get behind the theory Dad, I just can’t.”

 John ran a palm over the back of his head. “I don’t know what to say, the medical evidence points to…”

Stiles snorted again. “Listen, if you’re asking me to think outside of the box then the medical evidence must do to. Deformities, birth defects, anomalies… open mind right?”

“But son?”

Stiles shifted his weight onto his other foot. Why was he still even standing? Without looking Stiles sought out one of the conference chairs and plonked his body into it before continuing. “I just can’t Dad, it’s not logical. What are logical are the autopsy reports on Matthew Daehler and Adrian Harris. Two bodies, dissected in similar ways, both with legs removed. Same MO for both. ”

“But the legs…”

“Two of the legs belonged to our first victim.”

“Didn’t one have a tattoo?”

Stiles had forgotten about that. He quickly scanned Lydia’s report. “Yeah. Confirmed as Matthew Daehler’s. The man obviously like daggers and snakes and decided to combine the two. It was very classy, even if I do say so myself.” Stiles answered with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Hmmm.”

Stiles continued ignoring his dad's disapproving reply. “The other is from an unidentified third body we haven’t yet located.”

“Okay.”

Stiles knew that by laying out all the facts so matter of factly it sounded clinical but this was how he needed to play this whole thing out. If there was a small chance he could solve it simply on the information taken from the two victims he would.

Everything else was going to need to take a back seat.

Including Mr Derek Hale.

“Are you going to search for the third victim?”

Without missing a beat, Stiles leaned back in the chair. “Honestly Dad? No, unfortunately I think it’s going to come to us.”

It was a couple of hours later when Stiles was woken up by a stupid dog howling to be let in, did realise that his father had still been in his office when he’d left the station not long after they had finished their conversation.

“And he calls me out for working too much,” Stiles said with an exhausted snort. He would have it out with the man tomorrow whether he liked it or not, for now he just needed the damn dog to shut up.


	9. Three Miraculous Laps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Physical Activity  
> Swimming  
> Lakes  
> Nakedness  
> Wolf

Stiles failed to sleep again that evening, however much he tried, and was why he now found himself standing on the edge of the Beacon Hills Preservation in the cool early morning air wearing nothing but running shorts, a sweatshirt and the appropriate footwear.

Running had never been his thing – not while he’d been at high school anyway, but once he’d decided to go into law enforcement, Stiles found it helped him block out the death and destruction he encountered whilst on patrol. Apparently, or so he had been told by his ex, his long legs were made for running, although after tackling the forgotten about incline that lead him to the sign posted trail he would probably disagree. 

With his feet pounding against the unstable surface Stiles followed the makeshift trail further into the forest. The trail was exactly as he remembered it from those few occasions he came home to visit his Dad. It may have a little more overgrown than he was used too but it had surprisingly kept its shape with only the odd fallen tree blocking his path.

In truth Stiles missed running. Really missed it, _especially here_. He didn’t get the opportunity to so much nowadays and running in downtown LA wasn’t like this. There, he stuck to local running tracks and only did it so he could keep up with the local criminal fraternity, but here in Beacon Hills it was different. There was no one timing his run and giving him shit when he looked like hell afterwards.

Relaxing into a rhythm Stiles pushed himself harder as he moved deeper into the forest. With Beacon Hill’s morning air cooling his skin he jumped over over-turned logs and pushed foliage out of the way until he found himself on the edge of Beacon Lake that during summer doubled up as a swimming pool.

“Oh my god!” Stiles whimpered. His body ached as his muscles started reacting to the burn. In an attempt to ease them, he stretched it out one leg at a time up against an over turned log. “I’m so unfit,” he said with a pant.

After a few minutes Stiles let his head fall back on his shoulders and looked up to the blue sky overhead. His arms felt so tense, his body far too wound up. The insomnia he suffered with beating him every night.

This case may have only been a couple of days old but it was killing him.

The thing was, half of the investigation felt real the other half not, so Stiles simply didn’t know which way to go. He truly believed – hand on heart – he could solve it with just with the facts – it was what he was good at.

It was that thought, that he could do this alone, that had kept him up most of the night tossing and turning until he had given up and headed out of the door.

Now that he was stood at the edge of the lake in complete silence Stiles attempted to clear his brain and focus it on what he knew.

The facts as they stood where simple. They had two victims, possibly (almost certainly) a third and recognized MO. There was also a loose suspect in Peter Hale if he could find him. There were no witnesses to either incident – something that pissed him off - because it meant whoever was carrying out these acts of violence was doing so behind closed doors. Something was also telling Stiles the Beacon Hills Asylum also had a massive part to play in it. Logically, there were more connections between the derelict building itself, Peter Hale, the information Isabelle Hart had given, Adrian Harris and the Hale Mansion, than Stiles was comfortable with. The only anomaly he could see was the Matthew Daehler, the first victim. How had that man ended up on a gurney in Beacon Hills? Did anyone local know him? Where did he drink? Eat? Who had he met recently?

Or was it simply wrong place at the wrong time…? But then that didn’t explain… No… Stiles couldn’t go there. He was missing something, he was absolutely sure of it.

With the information still swirling around his head, Stiles took a few steps forward until he was at the edge of the water. It had been a long time since he had skinny dipped anywhere but the urge to strip his clothes off and dive into the cool water was overwhelming.

“Fuck it,” he said, yanking at his t-shirt. “There’s nobody about.”

Stiles flung the garment over an overturned tree trunk, his running shoes, skins and briefs following quickly behind. Stretching outwards, he ran his hands over his naked chest and then shook his hands out at the ends of his arms. Yes, he was aware that he was stood butt naked at the side of a lake but _fuck it._

 The water of the lake was cold and it sent a shiver through Stiles body as he took the plunge. _Shit_ had it been this cold before? Maybe not, but the way that his balls were retreating into his body told him otherwise.

Finding a rhythm he made his way towards the centre of the lake; his strokes even and focused breaking the surface only slightly. Dipping under the water soaking his hair, he took a deep breath and repeated the action until he resurfaced some five meters away.

“Oh my god!” he said as a shiver forced its way around his extremities. It felt like the water getting colder.

Scanning the lake Stiles’ eyes widen when he saw the small wooden pier he and Scott had jumped off so many times. Wow. Memories quickly flooded around his brain. He’s had his first kiss on that pier and it was still there? Was it safe? Powering the short distance towards the long wooden structure, he cast a quick glance back in the direction of where his clothes where, saw they were okay, and carried on.

The small pier had at some point had been updated. Stiles noted the fresh wooden boards dotted the walk way where they had been replaced and he sent a word of thanks to the person when he noticed a small set of metal steps someone had thought to finally add to the structure. They had been the one thing everyone who used the lake had said were missing. How else was an old women supposed to climb on the jetty Stiles had once been asked – he just hoped the old dear he and Scott saw regularly swimming there had gotten to use them.

Stiles huffed with exhaustion as he grabbed the metal steps with one hand and hauled himself up. They were a little steep, but with a grimace he managed to haul himself up on the walkway and flop onto his back.

“Holy shit,” Stiles said with a touch of relief. He wasn’t  100% sure how long he could get away with lying naked on a wooden jetty in the middle of nowhere but he was definitely going to give it a try.

Flinging his left arm over his eyes to block out the sun Stiles tried to relax. The sun was warming the air nicely allowing his damp skin to dry out and for the first time in a week he was almost feeling relaxed.

“I could get used to this,” he said to himself with a yawn. Where in LA he could find an empty lake to skinny dip in was beyond him but if it helped him feel this chilled out he could get into it a little –

Suddenly the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck stood on end. Blocking out the sun with his arm once more he turned his head towards the shore line and scanned the wooden area.

Taking a deep breath – as subtly as he could – Stiles followed what he thought was movement in the trees.

He wasn’t alone.

“Holy shit,” he whispered calmly as the black silhouette of a wolf came into a view. Instinctively his eyes darted between the beast and to where his clothes where laid out on the tree trunk he had left them. Could he make it to the items before the animal?

Stiles shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

A wolf, god damn it.

He was naked, in the middle of nowhere with a wolf.

What an absolute fool he was. He hadn’t even told anyone he’d come this far. He didn’t even have his sidearm.

Eyeing it closer Stiles followed the animal as it carefully padded across the stone shoreline until it was stood at the lakeside end of the wooden pier. It was a big one too by the looks of it (not that Stiles was an expert in this these). But black fur covered the animal’s body and Stiles suspected that if he’d been standing upright (fully dressed of course) the beast’s head would have reached his chest.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles said shakily. He could make it back to where his clothes where? Could wolves swim? He really really needed to ask Scott this sort of thing for future reference.

The beast however, seemed unconcerned by Stiles’ presence. Stiles watched as it took another step closer then jumped the final few meters all landing perfectly on all four paws.

Suddenly Stiles was nervous, he dipped his head and pushed himself up onto his elbows. Damn, it was getting closer. When Stiles glanced over towards it again and saw the wolf staring directly at him he had an urge pinch himself to check that this shit was real.

In Stiles mind this wasn’t happening. Never, in all the years he had lived in Beacon Hills and swam in this lake had he seen a wolf wandering through the preserve.

Until now.

Pushing his body upright Stiles turned carefully so he was facing the wolf directly. Was he really this stupid? Probably. He was naked for Christ sake, but his brain was logically telling him that being naked was going to make absolutely no difference if the damn thing attacked. His running shorts were never going to be able to protect him from those claws.

By now the large wolf had padded slowly down the wooden and was stopped a couple of meters from the end.

“Hey there,” Stiles said releasing a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He then shook his head at his own stupidness.

He was talking to a wolf for fucks sake. It wasn’t like the damn animal could understand.

Bowing his head Stiles surprised himself by breaking the animals glare. He then realized a deep sounding groan as he watched the beast close the distance between them even more.

_Oh god._

_It’s coming for me._

Closing his eyes Stiles waited for the inevitable attack. His heart was now bouncing in his chest and Stiles was fairly sure the wolf could hear it. Did they have good hearing? Stiles would need to ask Scott later. If later ever came that was. For all he knew he would look a bloody clawed at mess in a couple of seconds.

“Good doggy..?” Stiles huffed. Again he looked at space between them and back towards the wolf once more. If the wolf was going to do it, it would be now.

The attack never came though. Instead the wolf snorted loudly surprising Stiles, causing him jump and flail about like the naked dick head he was. “Holy shift dude!” He knew it was ridiculous to talk to the damn thing but the black wolf didn’t seem in the least bit bothered. In fact…

Somehow, without Stiles realising the wolf had managed to get close enough that he could sniff at the hand Stiles had put out to steady himself during the flailing. “Okay…” Stiles said softly in the wolf direction. He watched as the animal carefully took its time sniffing up his forearm and then to his shoulder. “So this is a thing that’s happening…”  

Stiles took a deep breath and released it slowly.

_Okay._

_This was happening._

Oh boy it was happening.

Ignoring Stiles’ mini freak out the wolf carried on with its investigations, sniffing at Stiles’ shoulder until it stood so close to him that it could bury its head in his neck. Not moving, Stiles then felt the wolf take a deep breath into his chest and then release it with a shudder.

That was…

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Stiles suddenly had an overwhelming urge to touch the beast. So with his right hand he tentatively reached across his body and touched the thick black fur that covered the animal’s body. “Oh god, you’re beautiful.” Stiles sank his fingers into the thick fur. It was soft and warm and was nothing like what Stiles had imagined it would be like. He wanted to bury his head into it. “No one is going to believe this happened,” he said with a sigh.

Stiles didn’t know for how long he sat holding the wolf. The wolf was equally reluctant to let go to it seemed. Burying it head in Stiles’ shoulder it let out a number of content sighs before nudging at him with its nose.

“It’s getting cold yeah…” Stiles said. He felt his cheeks flush with heat though when the wolf roughly rubbed its head across his chest and the goose bumps that had either appeared because he was shit scared or freezing. It was ridiculous, but for a brief moment the action felt like the wolf was marking him. Stiles pushed the thought to the back of his mind. “I should get back to my clothes; I should… yeah…”

At Stiles’ words the wolf pulled its body away and sat back on its haunches.

“You’re kinda cool for a wolf. Not sparkly at all.” Stiles told the beast with an out of the blue wink of his eye.

He was officially out of his god damn mind.

The wolf snorted in return.

“This is going to sound ridiculous but it feels like you can understand me. I know you can’t because that would be totally illogical… but then this guy I’ve just met, this case I am working on…anyway… it’s been fun right?!”

Not waiting for a reply (ha!) Stiles hauled his body closer to the edge. He turned to face the wolf now fully aware the beast was staring at his naked form. “No one is going to believe me, so I think this is just between us right?”

This time the wolf didn’t make a sound. Stiles watched its ears twitched from side to side until the animal twisted its’ head in the direction of the preservation.

“You hear something boy?”

Oh god he really was ridiculous. Who makes Lassie jokes with a 200lb wolf?

The wolf had definitely heard something though, its focus was now off Stiles and being directed at something in the preservation. Stiles followed the animal’s line of sight towards an area opposite to where he had left his clothes. Was that..?

A loud howl pierced the silence before Stiles could say anything though. It wasn’t his wolf making that the noise so what was it? He got his answer when the black wolf next to him suddenly tipped its head back and responded with equally deafening bay.

“Fucking hell!” Stiles shouted covering his ears. The action had him suddenly diving into the water to get away from the animal now stood frozen on the wooden pier. He needed to get away. Quickly. He was an idiot for staying there for as long as he had been.

His arms moved faster than they had ever moved before. Powering through the water he cast a quick back towards the pier and the sight of the wolf now running pelt along the lakes shoreline letting off a series of growls as it did so.

Stiles shook his head.

That was unreal.

This whole thing was unreal.

Had he really just cuddled a wolf?

A shiver ripped through his body at the thought.

Stiles reached the shoreline in double quick time, dressed and made his way back to the motel although he wasn’t sure how he had been able run it so quickly. The motel was still quiet thank god when he arrived, so as he silently moved through the lobby area towards his room he began to strip the damp clothes from his body.

It was only when he was stood naked in his room, holding the damp clothes in own hand did it register on Stiles brain what had just happened.

Wolves.

Beacon Hills.

Howling.

He was going to need to speak to Derek Hale sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately the updates are going to slow down as I am now back at work after being off sick for four months. Hopefully I will try and keep to weekly chapters but it may fall to two weekly. The story is complete in my notebook though, will be finished and all will be well again in Beacon Hills. It just might take a bit longer to get there.  
> I'm also going to try and go back and correct a few errors I've seen. This is the most complicated thing I have ever written and I need to double check stuff as I am going.  
> Thanks for reading so far and for the kudos
> 
> P.s. I just felt at this point needed a little wolf.


	10. Three plus six equals nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hale Mansion  
> Derek Hale looking manly  
> A little mythology  
> Little red riding hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the massive delay in updating. Real life took over for a while and I just haven't had time to carry on. Updates will happen and it is complete, I just need to get my act together.
> 
> It's not been beta'd all mistakes are my own. Including the mythology stuff. If there any updates it 's because I've spotted something isn't spelled right or a word missed out. The story line won't change.

On Stiles’ first day in homicide someone told him that a crime scene would eventually start to talk if you listened hard enough. As a rookie Stiles had ignored the advice. He remembered scoffing on more than one occasion when the same lead detective had told him to stand in the middle of the room and walk the scene through in his head and visualize in his own way what had gone down.

The first time it actually worked Stiles’ feet had still both been firmly in the ‘sceptical’ camp. The Lead Detective on the case, a different one than he normally worked with was also in that camp, but having no suspect and limited leads Stiles last grasp suggestion that he return to the crime scene and take one more quick look was initially met with laughter.

_‘You using that voodoo shit the Colorado Detective told you about Stilinski?’ The detective had said._

_Stiles had shrugged in return. ‘We haven’t got much else Sir. Maybe worth it.’_

Stiles had gone anyway and ended up finding a vital clue they had all missed the first time round and solving the case. From that moment it didn’t matter what scene it was, indoor or outdoor, destroyed or not, Stiles knew that if he waited long enough it would talk.

That knowledge was the main reason Stiles was now standing alone (he needed time out after that bizarre run earlier he refused to even think about) in the center of the attic space of the Hale residence while Isaac was back at the Asylum with the Sheriff.

In day light the room looked completely different. Brighter (as it could be being partially burned out shell) it was clear the large space had at one time been separated into three areas. A small living area, where the metal remains of an old armchair still stood facing the corner to where a TV had probably lived. Next to that was small kitchenette. The units were long gone but the metal sink remained. The third and final section looked like a sleeping area. That had been where Harris’ body had been left and displayed, though now all evidence of that had been removed.

Scanning the third section, Stiles tentatively took a step forward, whipping out his phone from his pocket as he did so. The area had been cleaned as best as it could be, although it was clear where the makeshift theatre and its plastic walls had once been located.

“Fucking hell,” Stiles said as he kicked a medium sized block of charred wood away with his toe. The place was a fucking death trap.

Carefully easing his way around wooden beam, Stiles braced himself with a hand against it and took a deep breathe. Somehow the make shift sleeping area had been miraculously protected by the plastic sheets the killer had used. In fact, eyeing it closer he could see no evidence of blood splatter to the walls and floor. Surprisingly the area looked pretty much untouched even with the fire damage. The wallpaper that remained looked more like it was decaying than anything.

As he scanned the area he suddenly noticed the triskelion pattern that Isaac had found a few days earlier on the crime scene photos. Running just below the window Stiles counted nine identical third pronged swirls that looked in daylight like they had been drawn only the day before.

Dropping to a crouch Stiles slipped one of his ever present gloves onto his right hand and ran a finger along the pattern the ink smearing as he did so.

“What the fuck?” Stiles whispered rubbing his fingers together. His index finger and thumb were now covered in a matt black powder type substance. Charcoal? It was charcoal? Stiles quickly scanned the floor a second time and dug in his pocket for his mobile phone. From the debris left on the floor it was clear anything could have been used to graffiti the wall. Bits of charred wood scattered the whole attic space, however it was the small pile of crayon shaped objects that sat on the window sill suddenly caught his attention.

Stiles hastily scanned his brain searching for the photo they had viewed in the clinic. Had they been there on the crime scene photo? Had the pattern been that long? He left out a long puff of air as he counted the now damaged graffiti.

Nine triskelion.

There had only been three on the photo.     

Six had been added.

Holy shit! Someone had been into the building since Harris had been found and added to the pattern. That was… before Stiles could continue the thought his phone rang.

“Stilinski! Dad? Nothing? Never mind that… we’ll discuss it later, I need someone up at the Hale Mansion. Who did you say was the Officer on site? Parish? What do you mean he was called away to help deal with the car accident? The one on Commerce Way? Did he come back…. Why the fuck not? Right well we have a problem here in that someone had been into the attic space here and added to the graffiti on the wall. You got no one? Shit.” Stiles shook his head. In the back ground he could hear his Dad’s muffled voice talking to someone. “Who? Dad no. I can’t have anyone just wandering around… Yeah I realise that, fuck… right just send him. Give him a camera and send him. The guy follows my orders though.”

Stiles ended the call before he got a reply and swore lightly.

Derek Hale was apparently coming home.

###

 

Stiles was tempted to say _‘so you found it okay’_ to Derek as the man strode towards him but immediately realized that probably just add fuel to the fire. Instead he slipped his mobile into his jacket pocket and immediately handed Derek a set of Latex gloves without saying a word.

“Your dad said someone broke in,” Derek said with what Stiles sounded like a growl.

“Possibly, the building isn’t exactly secure.”

Stiles watched Derek scan the area and sigh briefly as he caught sight of the now disturbed graffiti. He wasn’t much taller than Stiles, maybe a couple of inches and normally Stiles wouldn’t be bothered by that fact. But he couldn’t help notice the way that Derek’s presence seemed to dominate over his any room they were in together. At first Stiles put it down Derek being a professor – surely dealing with students all day in lecture theaters did that to a person – but it wasn’t just that though. The man had a presence, an aura almost that screamed _‘I’m in charge’_. Even just standing next to Derek right now Stiles could feel it and that equally unnerved Stiles as much as it did turn him. It didn’t help that Derek was also dressed all in black today. From the high necked black jumper to the black jeans and boots the guy just screamed power. Derek Hale fucking gorgeous there was no doubt about it…

“It’s been added too,” Stiles said getting back to business in hand.

“It was supposed to be secure.”

“Tell me about it. The officer on duty got called to deal with a RTA and was never posted back. They are probably short staffed; you know what these small town police forces are like.”

Derek nodded and crossed his arms over his chest making him look even more dominant and in control. Stiles noticed his eyes didn’t move from the area were the now extended graffiti was.

“It’s definitely extended. There is no way the crime scene techs would have missed it. The pattern in the photo wasn’t as pronounced as this is. We only just saw the original on a magnified photo, this now stands out like a sore thumb.”

“Drawing our attention in more possibly?” Derek asked, his tone giving nothing away.

“More than likely. It looks like they’ve used what’s available though, whoever drew it used some of the charred wooden pieces left lying on the floor.”

“Can I get closer?”

Stiles nodded his head, “be my guest, you’re more of an expert at this stuff than I am. Whoever did it left the remains of the makeshift pencils on the window sill.”

“By accident?”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders in reply. “Maybe, possibly. Maybe they got disturbed. I might have disturbed them. Or Parish even. This place does have lots of dead ends and endless rooms to hang out in.”

“You didn’t look?” Derek looked surprised.

“No, no, I didn’t. Instead called back up and got you,” Stiles replied. He ignored the look of frustration that crossed Derek’s face at the answer. Stiles could admit he was stupid but not _that_ stupid; he wasn’t search a house on his own for an unknown assailant. As least if he stayed in one location he would have had a fighting chance. “They probably are well away now.  Plus, they might have had a look out watching the entrance so when I got here they scarpered.”

Derek gave hum in agreement. “You think it’s more than one person? You’re speaking in the plural.”

Stiles took a deep breathe. “For some reason, yes I do,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure but he thought there was no way one person could set up the attic and asylum scenes the way singlehandedly. In fact the more he thought about it… “It makes sense.”

Derek hummed again. This time Stiles thought it definitely sounded like a growl. Or hunger. Stiles jumped on it.

“You hungry Professor? I could always eat, I skipped breakfast for a run and now I’m starving.”

Derek nodded once. “You got everything you need though? I was told to bring a camera.”

“Oh right.” Christ he’d had forgotten about that. “Maybe we should get a couple of shots of the new artwork and this sleeping area now it’s in daylight before we go though. I got some on my phone but they won’t be very clear blown up. After that, breakfast time, I could murder some pancakes.”

 “Yeah, okay.” Derek finally replied solemnly. Stiles watched as Derek undid the hold all he hadn’t noticed he’d been carrying and bring out a Nikon camera. “However, it’s not quite how I would describe needing pancakes Detective considering the room we are in.”

  Stiles dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “You see the things I see and let me assure you how I describe pancakes covered in maple syrup is the least of my concerns. But… yeah I get you. Maybe not appropriate. Shall we start then?”

 Stiles watched as Derek took endless shot after shot of the bedroom space. To Stiles’ surprise the man was a nature at it. (For once) he listened to direction and even offered up a number of details Stiles had missed. After they took the last few photos of the triskelion up close Stiles indicated that he needed a few of the wider surrounding area including mould covered wallpapered wall that would have at one time would have been behind a head board.

“Do you remember the room like it was?” Stiles asked suddenly. His eye was being drawn to the edge of another window where a series of names had been listed next to a tacked on measuring tape.

Laura, Derek, Mum, Dad and Peter.

Christ. Well that brought it home a little.

“Sort of,” Derek replied. He had obviously seen the same thing as Stiles because he was now lining up a shot of it. “We didn’t get up here much. This height chart though was Peter’s doing. He likes facts and figures, had us reciting our times tables on a daily basis. It was fun; he was – is – a good uncle, unfortunately Laura’s death affected him the must.”

Stiles could sort of understand that, his mom’s death had affected his dad so hard. But then Laura’s death was a completely different set of circumstances. Peter had apparently been accused of the murder. “Yeah. I can imagine. Thanks for getting a shot of it. I’m not saying it means anything but I don’t remember seeing a photo of this in the original crime scene photos,” Stiles said still staring at the names. He smiled stupidly when he took in the large scrawl Derek’s name had been written in.  For some reason seeing the handwritten list was causing a lump to appear in Stiles’ chest. It might not look like it now but Hale Mansion had at one time been a home. Kids playing, laughter, even Peter sounded half human considering the man had been labelled as a murderer by Isabelle Hart.

Stiles didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they had finished and where walking out of the entrance. His heart had begun to thump harder in his chest for every moment the two of them had spent in there. It was almost beginning to make Stiles feel claustrophobic.

“Fresh air,” Stiles said sucking in a lung full. He noticed that Derek didn’t seem to be as half as affected but he was breathing more heavily.

“Sir,” a voice said. Stiles turned and saw a man in uniform walking towards him “I’m back now. The Sherriff said there had been a break in.” This must had been the Deputy Parish his dad had spoken about.

“Yeah some additional damage to the crime scene, but we got it all on camera so the sight is clear again. Do you remember seeing anything?” Stiles asked hoping the color was returning to his face.

“No Sir, I got called to the car accident, then it was the end of my shift, and my day off but I was never replaced. I got it now though. I don’t mind do an external sweep of the building for you Mr Hale and report back if I find anything.”

Stiles nodded sharply. It sounded good to him; in an attempt to center himself again Stiles told himself that what Derek thought wasn’t his concern.

Without waiting Stiles indicated to Parish to get on with and began to head towards his car. At the last minute he turned in Derek’s direction. “Follow me to the diner on the main road north of Beacon Hills? They do good food and it’s cheap.”

Twenty minutes later Stiles slipped into a vacant booth and ordered both of them coffee.

“You drink coffee?” Stiles asked as Derek slipped into the seat opposite.

“I do, not a lot, but I skipped breakfast like you did this morning so I’m running on empty now.”

Stiles watched as the waitress filled the two mugs. He waited for her to finish before he spoke. “You okay? My dad shouldn’t have sent you to help really; you’re too connected to the case.”

Derek nodded slowly. “I’m okay. Are you? You seemed a little tense in there towards the end?”

Had he? Had his emotions really been that exposed so much Derek could read them? Stiles quickly ducked his head in an attempt to deflect the question by taking a sip of the hot liquid. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of looking a little vulnerable (okay maybe a lot) but not in front of someone who affected him as much as Derek apparently did.

“I’m okay,” Stiles replied finally. “You want some food? Pancakes?”

Stiles watched Derek nod in agreement and drag the menu out of its holder.

“Maybe not pancakes, I’m more of a bacon guy myself.”

For some reason that made Stiles chuckle, “bacon it is then.”

The food came quickly and both men tucked into their breakfasts. Surprisingly Stiles didn’t find the silence between then unnerving, in fact for the first time in a long it felt comfortable. Usually when he ate with someone else chat was centered on the case they were working on. This time there was nothing to say, not that already been said previously Stiles thought…

“So I have a question,” Stiles said as he licked maple syrup from the ends of his fingers. For most of the day his brain had been fixated on the murder case but for some reason he couldn’t get the incident from the lake out of his head. “Wolves. You know about wolves. Explain them too me.”

“Depends on which type.” Derek replied with a cough.

Stiles ignored it because his first reaction was to stop himself from saying big fuck off furry black ones.  “There are different sorts?”

“The gray or Timber wolf   _\- Canis Lupis –_ is the most common in the US but there are others – the Ethiopian, for example. The first is adapted to hunting large wild pray and is primarily an apex hunter. It’s a pack animal – which is more often than headed by a mated couple so the pack is more nuclear. It’s probably the one type of wolf written about more than any other.”

Stiles nodded. He had watched enough BBC documentaries to get the general picture. “It’s probably the only wolf shift scared of Liam Neeson.”

Derek chuckled, his face turning warm. Stiles liked it. “Hell Detective even I’m scared of Liam Neeson.”

“Who isn’t? And the other type, _your_ type, _your_ area of expertise?”

“The Werewolf?”

“Yeah, what’s the difference, except the whole turning into a man thing…?”

“Wolves have been written into folklore and mythology for centuries. Think about the Little Red Riding Hood or the Three Little pigs stories. Those are some of the basic most recognised tales we are brought up with and possible where the fear of the wolf started. Get ‘em young so to speak. Here the wolf has the ability to be speak and is conscious of its own actions. Those stories have basis somewhere.”

“So you’re saying the wolf is self-aware?”

“It can hear, see, make decisions yes. The wolf also appears in a lot of English armoury, shields, crests… you get the picture. But there has always been tales of wolves fighting alongside humans, partnerships throughout the ages. Joan of Arc, Lawrence of Arabia etc.”

Stiles was intrigued, he’d never really thought of it like that. “So what you are suggesting is that these people, Joan of Arc for example had a werewolf fighting alongside her?”

Derek paused before he answered. “Yes. Together they made a powerful force. They were stronger together. One alpha – the warrior Joan, plus her female mate who could switch between the two forms.”

Wow.

Stiles hadn’t expected that. It still didn’t explain the situation they had in Beacon Hills though.  “And you believe this? That there are individuals out there who can flick between the two?”

“If you are referring to the evidence you have found so far in this case? Yes, I believe that’s what you have here. It is not impossible, history tells us so. Man can change between two forms.”

“It’s a lot to take in Mr Hale.”

“Didn’t Alan say you would need to think outside the box on this one?”

Stiles didn’t reply. Not immediately anyway. Part of him couldn’t help but think he was missing something. “He said I would need your help.”

“And I am here. Out of interest, what brought this line of questioning on? Up until this point you have brushed anything off I have suggested without blinking.”

Stiles snorted. And that was the thing wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure he could trust Derek fully yet but something deep inside of him was pushing him to be honest.

Pushing back from the table Stiles let out a puff of air and looked across at Derek. Even sat in the booth of a diner he looked composed and comfortable. The black high necked jumper pulled tightly showed off his chest perfectly, the day or so growth of hair on his chin looked immaculate. It was a look Stiles was beginning to find more unnerving as each day went on. Hell, who was he kidding, he’d found himself drawn to Derek Hale the moment he’d seen the man the night Harris’ remains had been found.

“This morning while I was out on my run I made it as far as the lake.” Stiles started slowly. He wanted – no needed to explain this as clearly as he could so he had some chance to understand what had gone on. The more he thought about it the more he could see the sense in Derek’s way of thinking.  Could it be possible that the black wolf could have been self-aware? “Whilst I was there I went for a swim. It’s something me and Scott would do all the time – the place was packed in the summer. Anyway I swam for a little while then I noticed that the jetty was still there we used to dive off, so I got out and lay down on the surface, you know, just to chill out – this case its…anyway, I was lay down and a wolf… a black wolf approached me.”

“Okay. That’s… okay” Derek replied. Stiles couldn’t hear any sign of derision in the tone but then he really didn’t know Derek that well. He continued anyway.

“It approached me and like an idiot I said hello to it. I was so casual you know? Or tried o be.” Stiles said with a chuckle. “It is an apex hunter after all. But then…this is going to sound stupid but it seemed to understand me, it sniffed at my arm, buried its head into my neck. It’s fur was so soft and thick and…”

“You touched it.” Derek sounded surprised.

“I did. I held it.”

“You were calm.”

“I was. It felt… I… It felt right.” And there it was the thing that Stiles had dared not admit to himself, let alone anyone else all morning. His face burnt with heat at the admission. “It felt right. I talked to it a little, mentioned the case. I mentioned some stuff and yeah.”

“You’re embarrassed. Don’t be.”

“It’s been bothering me all day.”

“Wolves are sensitive creatures Stiles. They pick up on emotions. It felt your fear and your worries.”

“They say that don’t they? Animals know when to comfort?”

Derek nodded slowly. “They do, their hearing is more acute, they can hear a heartbeat from miles away hence their success in hunting. Maybe your wolf could feel you.”

For some reason that made Stiles chuckle, “my wolf?”

“Yes, your wolf.”

“Well I wouldn’t go as far as to call him that.”

“Really? Your tale implies something different. You recognised that it could understand you did you not?”

Stiles nodded, he couldn’t lie. The wolf had understood him but that didn’t mean it one of those werewolf things. Maybe it was just a tame wolf. He would ask Scott if there was anyone around he knew who reared them. “Anyway another howl spooked it and it eventually ran off. Probably its mate or something like you said wondering why it hadn’t brought cooked dinner or something.”

“Possibly. Or another wolf? Maybe one on his patch?

Before Stiles could answer however, his phone rang to break the moment and he held a finger up to Derek indicating to give him a moment.

“Detective Stilinski. Oh hi Isaac, how it go at the asylum?”

_‘It was okay sir, but we got a problem, has Parish contacted you?’_

“No, why?” he hadn’t missed any calls as far as he knew. His phone had been next to him all the time he and Derek had been eating breakfast. “Should he have called me?”

_‘Yeah, sir there’s been another body found, this one was at the edge of the Hale property near the lake. White, male, probably in his thirties, same condition as Harris.’_

“Mutilated?”

_‘Leg missing.’_

Shit.

‘ _That’s not all.’_

Of course it wouldn’t be. “Go on. Did Parish find it?”

_‘Sir that’s the next part. Deputy Parish was the reporting officer; he called it in an hour ago and went with the individual to where the body was located.’_

“Okay Isaac… I feel like I am missing something. Who found the body?”

_‘You are Sir, fucking hell. It was Uncle Peter who found the body.’_


	11. Three out of Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another body  
> A silver fox  
> Paws and claws  
> The motel on Fairfax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Real life is kicking my arse atm. I am going to try and get back on it now.

The man currently stood next to his Dad was not what Stiles had been expecting. Dressed in a casual t-shirt, worn comfortable jeans and a pair of expensive looking hiking books Peter Hale looked closer to forty years old than his given sixty.

“He’s kind of hot. Like a Silver fox.”

Stiles tutted and turned towards where one of his best friends was standing. Already dressed in her crime scene gear Lydia had appeared on site just after Stiles and Derek had separately pulled their cars into the packed driveway of Hale Mansion.

“He’s kind of my main suspect Lydia.”

Stiles felt Lydia chuckle. “Still hot though.”

Ignoring her Stiles cast his eyes over the scene. Of course his dad had got here first. Now stood casually chatting with murder suspect number one it irked Stiles a little to think that he hadn’t been the one to collar the man. If he had been Stiles would have gotten the information fresh – not that he was suggesting his Dad didn’t know what he was doing - but god damn it this was his case after all.

“Are you going over?” Lydia’s voice cut through his thoughts once more.

Stiles nodded calmly waving her off with one hand. “In a minute… I just need to…” Think? Ponder? Take in the scene a little more?

Lydia didn’t reply. Out of everyone she seemed to understand him the most. Scott got him 100%, but Lydia? Yeah she understood his little quirks and more because she had just as many.

“Just throw me a pair of gloves before you run off to your body,” Stiles said before she disappeared into the trees. He watched as she dipped her hand into her bag before launching a pair towards him.

“Here catch!”

Stiles did so with one hand.

Slipping them on he turned to face the huddle of bodies stood at the opening to the woods. Of course by now Derek had joined them and was already talking in what Stiles could tell was hushed tones. 

“Dad - Sherriff, you think you could update me a little here?” Stiles shouted as walked closer to the group. “You also wanna tell me why we’ve got EMT’s on location?”

Somehow Stiles hadn’t noticed the large vehicle with the blue and red flashing lights on top of it when he had pulled onto the driveway but now it sort of stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Have we got casualties?”

If the two EMT’s a male and a female, heard him they didn’t reply.

John shook his head. “Nope, Parish called them.”

_Great_. “Why did he do that?”

“He got a little confused. When Peter approached him Jordan thought he said the victim was still alive.”

“And there are no doubt at all the victims dead?” Stiles had to ask right?

His dad shook his head in disbelief. “Stiles, the body is in two pieces. Three actually if you count the missing limb.”

Christ. “Yeah, so no doubt then. Missing limb? As in a leg?”

John nodded quickly. “The scene, it looks similar to the others.”

Stiles sighed at his dad’s words. Three out of three. Christ this case was getting more fucked up by the day. “Medical set up? Is there a gurney this time?”

John paused before he replied. Stiles watched as he lifted the Beacon Hills Police Department hat off his head and run his hand through his flattened hair. “No… But the body…”

“Let me guess…”

“I think you’re going to need to see for yourself.”

“Right.”

“Stiles, there’s another thing too.”

Because of course there would be… “Yeah, go on?”

“The location Peter found the body is the same location where he found Laura Hale’s body.”

For some reason hearing that didn’t surprise Stiles in the slightest. He had half guessed as much.  In fact Peter Hale’s involvement in finding the remains was just the cherry on the cake as far Stiles was concerned. 

“There’s a definite link then,” Stiles replied. “I think we can also send the EMT’s away now. If the body is as fucked up as you say then there is nothing they can do.”

John agreed with a nod.

“Hey guys, Tom, Jenny,” Stiles said quickly checking their sewn on name tags, “you can get off. I don’t think we need you, no need to hang around.”

“You sure?” It was Jenny, the female that answered.

Stiles smiled and waved them both off casually. “Yep, positive. Get going. We don’t need you to confirm death, I think it’s more of a case of when they died. Go grab a coffee and chill a bit before your next shout.”

The two still seemed unsure. “We’ll call it in then.”

This time Stiles didn’t reply. He repeated the ‘get out of here wave’ a second time and indicted as casually as he could that he wanted them out of there now. Stiles watched as the two EMT’s, still wearing a confused expression on their faces eventually nodded before climbing into the van.

“It was probably a good idea son to get them out of here.”

 No shit Sherlock. “I think you had better show me this crime scene Dad. And bring the family Hale with you too; they are bound to muscle their way in anyway.”

Letting his dad lead Stiles followed the small group to an opening in the trees and then down a slightly overgrown path. In the distance he could hear his dad casually chatting away to Peter Hale whilst Stiles fell in behind Derek.

“Do we think they brought the body this way?” Stiles said as he grabbed at a tree branch Derek had been holding back for him. The pathway was definitely overgrown and it was clear from the loose scattering of broken branches that littered the forest floor either side of it that some damage had been done, but that easily could have been caused by Parish on his earlier patrol.

“I think they think that.” It was Derek that answered him in that deep voice that was ‘sort of’ growing on Stiles a little. “Though Peter came across the site from the north side.”

  “What the hell was he doing out here?” Stiles asked before he could stop himself. It was a question he should be asking Peter Hale not his nephew.

“Walking.”

“By walking you mean on the run right? Because the guy has been missing then he suddenly turns up in the middle of my investigation?” Yeah, he probably needed to shut up.

Derek for whatever reason didn’t flinch at Stiles’ words. Unless, Stiles thought, batting a branch so hard it broke off (how strong was this dude?) could be considered a flinch. “Peter hasn’t been missing.”

“But you admitted…”

“I believe my parents said he’d disappeared. That didn’t mean he was missing. Peter knew exactly where he was.”

Stiles tutted. Disappeared? Missing? It was all the same fucking thing in his eyes however before he had time to answer though the pathway suddenly opened up into a clearing.

“Fucking hell,” Sties whispered as he scanned the area. In the centre sat – lay the remains – or what he thought where remains. His Dad had been right; the body was in two pieces with the torso part face down with the head pushed up against a fallen tree trunk. The lower half of the body lay about a meter away. Cut, from what Stiles could see just above the hip bones, it was male, stripped of any clothing and missing a leg. “That’s…”

“Like Laura.”

The voice came from behind Stiles. He didn’t turn around but he felt the presence of the small group that had come with him close behind. “The body’s position against the tree trunk, where the cut is… all similar Laura.”

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to look who the voice belonged to. “Did you touch it Peter?”

“No. I didn’t. This is exactly how I found it. I know not to touch a crime scene.”

“Anyone else with you?”

“No.”

“Let me get this straight Mr Hale. You were walking through the woods in the middle of the night and you stumbled upon a body?”

“So it would seem. Call me Peter too. Mr Hale is for too formal and it’s been years since I used the Dr title.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he blew out a lung full of air. Peter Hale was a Doctor?

“You looked surprised Detective. Don’t worry I’m a not a medical doctor – I doubt anyone would want me near an actual ill person. No, I read Theology at Cambridge, earned my pHD then came home to find my niece dead in the back garden.”

“Right.” Stiles replied. Out of nowhere came a determination not to get into this with Peter Hale, Laura’s death had been tough for all involved and something told him he needed to remember that fact but currently what was important were the remains in front of him. “We’ll talk later about that,” Stiles said, hopefully closing the subject. “Now I’m going to need to speak to you more about how you came to find this body, not Laura’s.”

Stiles hoped that did the trick. He drew a deep breath, pushed the tension out of him and scanned the whole clearing for a second time.

“Lydia you got anything?” He watched as Lydia nodded her head slowly. “You okay?”

Stiles watched as Lydia rocked back on heels and placed her hands on her covered thighs.

“Lydia?”

“Stiles it’s Jackson.”

“Eh? Jackson Whittemore?”

Christ. Jackson Whittemore had been Lydia’s significant other all through school - Prom King and Queen, most likely to succeed… the whole shebang. Stiles had never liked him – for obvious reasons the woman had been a goddess at school, but he hardly wanted to see him dead in the middle of the woods.

“You sure?” It was a stupid question he knew.

“It’s Jackson.”

Stiles eyes widened for a second time. Lydia carried on before he could speak though.

“It’s Jackson, it’s him.” Her voice was breaking; Stiles could hear it in the tone. “I never…”

Stiles moved quickly across the opening, dodging another fallen tree trunk and the lower part of the torso. “Hey hey it’s okay.”

“It’s not though is it?” Lydia’s voice sounded strained. Jackson may have been a bastard to him and Scott but Lydia for a time had worshipped the ground the man walked on. Stiles instinctively placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Lyds, it’s gonna be okay,” Stiles said quietly. He was aware his Dad, Peter, Parish and Derek Hale where all watching the scene. “Do you want me to call someone else to process this?”

Lydia shook her head. She reached across the torso and pulled at something as she did so. “It’s my job. Plus… this…?”

Stiles eyes darted to where Lydia was pointing. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Lydia had managed to free one of Jackson’s arms from where it had lain trapped between his chest and the damp grass.

“Is that..?”

Lydia nodded.

“Holy shit.” Stiles blinked and forced his eyes to focus. “That’s…”

“A claw? A paw? Yeah.”

Holy shit, indeed.

 

~~~

 

Somehow – god knows how Stiles thought - Lydia managed to process the scene by herself. Stiles watched as she, Parish and his dad managed to lift the now wrapped remains into a cadaver bag and carry them back down the path towards her van.

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles whispered under his breath. Now that Jackson’s remains had been removed the clearing seemed to take on a different atmosphere. It felt lighter, but then the sun was now rising into the sky sending out rays of light across the whole space so maybe that had something to do with but there was something else too. With his hands on his hips Stiles surveyed the now empty space.

“You okay?” Stiles somehow knew that Derek would be the first to break the silence yet the question still came out of the blue. Peter had long gone trailing after Lydia, his Dad and Parish but only after Stiles had gotten assurance from him he would go back to the station with latter for further questioning.

“I’m okay. You gonna say _I told you so_ to me or let it lie?” Stiles sounded snippy but he couldn’t give a shit. In the back of his mind he had known this whole investigation had been leading to this point. From the fangs, the partially transformed legs that he had passed off as just a macabre sick joke and the way the bodies had been arranged it suddenly all made horrible sense. Stiles couldn’t deny or argue with anyone – and that included Derek – especially Derek – that this case was nothing like he had ever seen before.

“I’m not going to say anything. I think Alan told you at the beginning to keep an open mind, he told you that would need me-.”

Stiles shook his head in an attempt to clear it a little. “Maybe I do. But I’ve still got three bodies on my hands. I still have a case to solve.”

Derek nodded and Stiles watched as his lips parted slightly. Derek was a big guy. They were the same height(ish) but overall he carried more bulk than Stiles did which at times felt overwhelming.

“You do. But let me help.” Derek’s words were low, almost a whisper.

“I can’t…”

“You can and you will.”

Derek’s words sounded like an order and Stiles huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You go about ordering everyone to do stuff?”

“That wasn’t an order.”

“No?”

Derek shook his head. “It’s in my nature to want to control… it’s the way I’m hardwired. Yours is too interfere, be nosey-.” Stiles snorted but Derek continued not giving him chance to interrupt. “…don’t look like that – you know it’s true, it’s makes you a good detective. It’s why they give you these types of investigations.”  

That earned Derek another snort. “You researched me?”

Derek laughed. “That’s the other way I’m hardwired. I have to know everything.”

“Yeah right.”

“Are you going to let me help you? You saw that your victim’s hands and arms were attached and fully shifted into their animal form.”

Stiles didn’t really have much choice. This investigation was a whole different ball game now and for whatever reason they needed to find the perpetrator before they killed anyone else.

“I still need to interview your uncle.”

“I know.”

“He’s still my number one,” Stiles continued but not really believing it. For some reason even Peter Hale’s now involvement felt wrong. It felt like Stiles was betraying something or someone for even thinking it. “Laura’s body was mutilated and Peter discovered it. Jackson’s body the same. It’s a pattern.”

“My Uncle is not a murderer. He dances to the beat of his own drum and is annoying as fuck but he didn’t murder either of them.”

“You sound so sure.”

“And yet you don’t.”

Stiles didn’t reply. He couldn’t admit that Derek was close to the truth. Instead he took a deep breath and started the long trek back to the Hale Mansion now hyper aware that Derek was walking close – too close behind him.

By the time they made it back to their vehicles the sun was full in the sky over Beacon Hills and Stiles had to admit that in its heyday the Hale Mansion with its large windows and extensive gardens it would have been an impressive building.

“When was the fire?” Stiles asked as he pressed the fob to unlock the car doors.

“1989.”

“Just after Laura’s death?”

“Yeah. The fire wasn’t connected if that’s what you are thinking. Mom always said it was an electrical fault.”

“Okay.”

“We moved when I was 9.”

“A massive upheaval then?”

“We were still hurting, the family. Laura’s death, Peter’s being admitted to hospital, my Mom always said it was the right thing to do.”

Stiles nodded in agreement and leaned his body against the trunk. After his own Mom’s death all he had wanted to do was run and hide but instead he and his father had stuck it out in Beacon Hills. It was only when he was older had he been able to run like the wind and deal with her death by putting himself through the gruelling academy training.

“Beacon Hills has a way of reeling you back in.”

“It sure does Detective,” Derek replied with a slight grin. Stiles watched as he pushed his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he seemed to be attached to. “Not always under the best circumstances though.”

Stiles didn’t answer. Instead he reached for his phone swiping his thumb across the screen to unlock it. “Lydia says she has heard from Erica about the marks on Adrian Harris’ head,” he eventually said.

“Where he was hit?”

“Yeah.”

“What does it say?

Stiles read the text carefully. He would question himself later why he readily as giving Derek the information but for now. “She thinks the indentations came from a car jack. You know the thing they give you to raise your car when you have a puncture?”

Derek nodded. “A specific car jack? Or a general one?”

Stiles shrugged. “Doesn’t say. Oh hang on… a Chevvy possibly. But Erica’s report is back at the station apparently,” Stiles paused. “Which is where I should be so I can interview Peter.”

“Go easy on him Detective.”

Derek’s simple caution had Stiles wanting to laugh out loud. “I think your Uncle can handle himself,” he said in reply.

“It’s not my Uncle I am worried about,” Derek murmured. Stiles raised his eyebrows expecting to see Derek’s sneer from across the car park. Instead he read something else, the realisation of which had Stiles taking a step back.

Need.

Want.

Care.

Holy shit.

Derek was a good looking guy, Stiles could admit that, he was a human after all and one that hadn’t had sex in a long long time, but seeing the man’s expression quickly change from confusion to something else caught him off guard.

“Really?” Yeah he was digging but he didn’t care. If Derek wanted to go there, he could as well couldn’t he?

“Oh come on Detective.”

“I’m good at my job Professor Hale. I saw that,” Stiles bit back nervously.

“You saw nothing. My Uncle is waiting.”

“The Motel out on Fairfax by the Speakman Diner. Room 33, first floor. If you want to be involved in this case and apparently you do, then be there at 8pm. Bring food. If I’m late I will contact you.”

Stiles could see Derek was momentarily lost for words.

“The case?”

“Remember, bring food. And Derek? I’m not a push over and you will tell me everything.”

“I...”

“Everything.”


End file.
